"Alright, Doc, all very interesting, but shall we get back to the riddle now?" the senator asked.

“What's with the rush, Senator? We haven't even had dessert yet," the singer complained.

“That’s true. Nothing like a sweet treat to clear the mind," the hostess said, glad to change the subject. "The cook has prepared some delicious air cakes for us."

"Just the thing ... A few more airs..." the writer muttered.

"Mrs. Thurlow," the servant called from the doorway, appearing worried, "there's a ... man at the front door asking for the Bishop."

"Me?" he asked, confused.

Mrs.Thurlow turned to him, awaiting his response.

“Oh, my Lord, I completely forgot!" exclaimed the bishop, jumping to his feet.

“Is he a friend of yours, Father Murray?” she kindly asked.

"Yes ... well, not exactly. Would you excuse me for a moment? I´ll be right back. It'll just take..."

"Why don't you ask him to join us? Or better yet, Matilda!" she said, turning to the servant, "Ask Father Murray's friend to come in."

The servant froze momentarily, "Matilda," Mrs. Thurlow insisted, "Did you not hear me?"

"Yes, Missus," the servant nodded and walked out.

As the servant went to fetch the bishop's friend, the cook brought out the dessert, beautifully presented, and everyone applauded and complimented her.

"This is just what we needed!" said the scientist, applauding.

But the writer nudged him, "No, Doc, this is what we really needed..." she said sardonically, nodding toward the servant and a beggar standing beside her.

The bishop stood up excitedly. "I want you all to meet Amadeus!"

(To be continued)