She walked over and closed the piano and handed Czerny and Liszt to her daughter-in-law.
“You put all this nonsense out of your head!” she said. “And run upstairs and put on a nice fresh dress and see if you can’t tidy that wild looking head of hair before Gilbert gets home.”
But when Gilbert got home he was not welcomed by the smiling and charming young wife he had a right to expect. Instead he found Claudine locked in the bedroom, her eyes red with weeping, and in a state of terrible excitement.
“Gilbert!” she cried. “Your mother says she won’t let me practise on her piano!”
He was astounded and a little frightened. So they were at it already!
“Well ...” he said. “I don’t know.... It’ll probably blow over, if you’ll use tact and patience.... Anyway, it’s a small matter.”
“It’s not! It’s not! My music is all I have left!”
“Hold on, Claudine! That’s rather strong!”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gilbert dear. Of course, you come first, only you’re away most of the time.... And you don’t know what it means to me. The idea of her being so domineering and cruel!”
“Claudine,” he said, very gravely. “I hoped this would never happen. Especially as you’re so fond of your own people.... I thought you’d understand how I felt about—Mother. I know she’s unreasonable sometimes—but remember that she’s old, and I’m all she has left.”