Antoinette half shrugged her shoulders, as if she thought the statement questionable, and began the song. Beulah listened attentively; she was conscious of feeling more than ordinary interest in this performance, and almost held her breath as the clear, silvery voice caroled through the most intricate passages. Antoinette had been thoroughly trained, and certainly her voice was remarkably sweet and flexible; but as she concluded the piece and fixed her eyes complacently on Beulah, the latter lifted her head in proud consciousness of superiority.
"Sing me something else," said she.
Antoinette bit her lips, and answered ungraciously:
"No; I shall have to sing to-night, and can't wear myself out."
"Now, Beulah, I shall hear you. I have sought an opportunity ever since I returned." Eugene spoke rather carelessly.
"Do you really wish to hear me, Eugene?"
"Of course I do," said he, with some surprise.
"And so do I," added Mrs. Graham, leaning against the piano, and exchanging glances with Antoinette.
Beulah looked up, and asked quietly:
"Eugene, shall I sing you a ballad? One of those simple old tunes we used to love so well in days gone by."