"I will not hush!" cried Anne-Marie, with flaming cheeks. "I am tired of hearing them always say the same stupid things."
The visitor, smiling acidly, stood up to go. "I am afraid too much music is not good for a little girl's manners," he said.
"Mother," said Anne-Marie, with her head against her mother's breast. "Tell him to wait. I want to say a thing that I can't. Help me."
"What is it, dear?"
"When we were to have gone to a country that you said was hot and pretty—and dirty—where was that?"
"Spain?"
"Yes, yes, yes! You said something about the little hotels there ... the funny little hotels. What did you say about them?"
Nancy thought a moment. Then she smiled and remembered. "I said: 'You can only find in them what you bring with you yourself.'"
"Yes, yes!" cried Anne-Marie, raising her excited eyes. "Now say that about music."
And Nancy said it. "You will only find in music what you bring to it from your own soul."