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“Miss Fairbairn, do you play?” Edward asked. “I think Ermengarde can scrounge up a second lute if you would like.”
“I don't play the lute, never could figure out the bloody thing out. I play the penny whistle.”
“Works just as well,” said Edward. Do you know this tune? He began to play the first few bars of “The Winster Gallop”. Fairbairn caught on and took her took her penny whistle to her mouth. The two began to play and room was given for Mr. Henderson to perform. The tavern patrons began to clap in time, stomping their feet. As soon as he got the beat, Mr. Henderson began to start his somersets. He threw himself up into the air; his heels flashing in the firelight and landed with surprising grace the crowd cheered.
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Edward grinned and leaned harder into the strum and Fairbairn’s whistle soared as Henderson launched into another somerset—than another, then another; his boots thudding against the ground. The music drove him like a drumbeat, his arms flung wide as he as though he were flying.
By his fifth somerset the tavern was wild with laughter. By the tenth, Henderson landed in a heap rolling to his knees with arms thrown high. The villagers bellowed their approval mugs raised high the rafters ringing with their delight
Edward, Fairbairn, and Henderson stood and took a bow as the patrons clapped their applause and cheers were long and loud.
“Encore!” someone shouted.
“Let's have Edward and his lady friend play,” said Henderson. “I could use a break.”
“Well, since we did a lively tune how about something slow. Miss Fairbairn, what do you suggest?”
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Very Wonderful!