THE FIREWORKS.
little before seven o'clock that evening the children stood at the drawing-room window. All traces of the recent struggle in the garden had been removed, and in the neat little girl in the dainty cream lace and muslin frock, with its fluttering pink ribbons, few persons would have recognized the small fury that Sophie had carried off wriggling and crying to the nursery a few hours before.
But Miss Bunny had already forgotten that such a scene had ever taken place, and was making very merry over a big blue-bottle fly that she and Mervyn were doing their best to catch as it walked up and down the window-pane.
Frank Collins sat at the piano playing some very lively tunes, and from time to time Bunny would pause in her pursuit of the fly and dance lightly over the floor in time to the music.
"Papa, papa," she cried, as Mr. Dashwood entered the room with his wife upon his arm, "doesn't Frank make lovely tunes?"
"I don't know, dear," answered her father. "Frank does not seem anxious to let me hear his music, for he has stopped short the moment I appeared."
"I am afraid Mrs. Dashwood would not care for my music," answered Frank modestly. "I only play from ear."
"Oh, Frank, how can you say such a thing!" cried Bunny indignantly. "Why, mama, he plays just like Miss Kerr does. He plays away up in the treble with two hands, and then he plays pum, pum, pum away down in the bass; oh, it is most beautiful! Do play again, Frank."
"No, dear, not now," said Frank. "I'll play for you another time, but don't ask me now;" and he hopped the little girl up on his knee.