MR. SMEETH IS WORRIED 445

pierrots themselves seemed to be enjoying themselves
immensely and so did their audience, who laughed and
clapped unceasingly, but Mr. Smeeth merely felt rather
out of it and thought the jokes not good enough for all
that laughing and the songs not worth all that applause.
"Overdoing it," he muttered darkly at the loud speaker,
which replied by bombarding him with more tinny
laughter and applause. But he was the master; he had
only to make a little movement and the pierrots and
their cackling friends were banished at once, simply
hurled into silence; and now he made this little move-
ment, and the loud speaker was at once emptied of
sound, nothing more than a bit of a horn. He had a
book from the Public Library somewhere about, and
now, in despair, he found it and began reading. It was
My Singing Years, by the great soprano, Madame Regina
Salisbury, whom he had once heard in an oratorio years
ago, and the young woman at the Library had told him
it was a most interesting book, on the word of her sister,
who was taking singing lessons and had two or three
professional engagements. But so far it had not appealed
to him very much. As a matter of fact, he was a reluctant
and unenterprising reader, one of those people who hold
their books almost at arm's length and examine them in
a very guarded manner, as if at any moment a sentence
might explode with a loud report; and he had probably
returned more books half-read than any other member
of the local Public Library. Nevertheless, he liked to
have a Library book about, and to be discovered read-
ing it.

He was discovered now. Edna came in, pulling off her
close-fitting little hat, and fussy and breathless, as usual
In a few minutes, she would swing completely round,