There was a general feeling of gratitude
and acquiescence when good-natured Rachel Klammerstein suggested that
there should be an hour or two's respite from "the game" while they all
listened to a little piano-playing after dinner. Rachel's love of piano
music was not indiscriminate, and concentrated itself chiefly on
selections rendered by her idolised offspring, Moritz and Augusta, who,
to do them justice, played remarkably well.
The Klammersteins were deservedly popular as Christmas guests; they gave
expensive gifts lavishly on Christmas Day and New Year, and Mrs.
Klammerstein had already dropped hints of her intention to present the
prize for the best enacted character in the game competition. Every one
had brightened at this prospect; if it had fallen to Lady Blonze, as
hostess, to provide the prize, she would have considered that a little
souvenir of some twenty or twenty-five shillings' value would meet the
case, whereas coming from a Klammerstein source it would certainly run to
several guineas.
The close time for impersonation efforts came to an end with the final
withdrawal of Moritz and Augusta from the piano. Blanche Boveal retired
early, leaving the room in a series of laboured leaps that she hoped
might be recognised as a tolerable imitation of Pavlova. Vera Durmot,
the sixteen-year-old flapper, expressed her confident opinion that the
performance was intended to typify Mark Twain's famous jumping frog, and
her diagnosis of the case found general acceptance.
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