voice which was intended to reach the lady's ear alone.
"Did I not tell you that the resemblance was very striking? That is Mr. Goad who is on the platform, Mrs. Groome."
The lady's tone could not have been intended to reach my ear alone; it was even unnecessarily loud.
"Mr. Goad! Mr. Attree, how can you say such a thing? Do you suppose that I don't know my own husband—the husband of nearly thirty years?"
Nora interposed. It was quite time, too.
"Mamma, do sit down. Perhaps there is some mistake; after all, it may not be papa."
Mrs. Groome sat down, I really believe unconsciously.
"May not be papa! Do you mean to tell me that you don't know your own father, girl? The man's a lunatic; he will disgrace us all. He does not know one note of music from another."
The sounds which proceeded from the platform struck the lady dumb. I noticed one or two of the committee looking in our direction, and almost began to fear that there would be a scandal. So far as appearances went, however, the individual on the platform continued to pay not the slightest attention to the lady's curious behaviour. At any rate, in the middle of her very audible remarks he commenced to play. The change which took place in the lady's countenance was really funny. As she was in the very act of speaking her mouth was open. Open it remained, with the words which were on the very tip of her tongue still unspoken. It continued open for a minute or more; she seemed to be under a
