had not been excited; the pianist regarding her all the time with a degree of calmness which, under the circumstances, was not without a touch of humour.
"I apprehend, madam, that you are under some misapprehension."
There was a certain quaintness about the speech which was old Groome all over. So the lady seemed to think.
"Everard!—Papa!" she almost screamed. "What do you mean?"
Just then the pianist caught sight of Bensberg. He held out his hand to him. Bensberg endeavoured to explain.
"It seems, Mr. Goad, that your double is walking the earth. Allow me to have the honour of introducing you to Mrs. Groome. It appears that you so closely resemble Mr. Groome that Mrs. Groome finds it difficult to persuade herself that Mr. Groome and you are two, and not one."
"The lady is mistaken. I have not the honour of knowing Mr. Groome."
This the pianist said with Mr. Groome's old-fashioned, courtly little bow.
"Not the honour!" gasped the lady. She was reduced to gasping. "Not the honour!"
Miss Groome had enough presence of mind left to interpose. It was time. The proceedings, so far as the rest of the programme was concerned, were at a standstill.
"Mamma, dear, let us go." Slipping her arm through her mother's, she drew her away. "Perhaps there is some strange mistake, and, after all, it is not papa."
