In fact it was the accordeon.
As soon as Minerva opened the bundle she stopped cooking dinner and began to play on her beloved instrument. Such sounds I had hoped never to hear again, and I went out into the kitchen and told her that I was sorry, but that I could not stand it in the house.
She looked up from the instrument, and there was a world of appeal in her eyes. I had never seen so much expression in them. Music certainly had power over her.
“Oh, Mist. Vernon, it’ll be dark after the dishes is washed, an’ I don’ dah go in the woods,” said she. “I’ll play sof’.”
“Yes, but you’ll delay dinner.”
She actually came over and laid her brown hand on my sleeve.
“Mist. Vernon,” said she, in honey tones, “I’m on’y gettin’ dinner at five to please myse’f. If I git it at six Mis. Vernon will like it better. She said so. I won’t play long.”
But I was determined not to listen to such music as that in the house. So I went out doors.
Ethel was sitting at the window of her bedroom. When she saw me she put her hands to her ears and made a grimace.
I made signs to her to come down.