She nodded, and began the prelude.
Val didn't budge.
Emmie beckoned. Val studied the long, narrow, heelless silk shoes on her grandmother's feet, and made no sign.
"Come, Val," said Ethan, in an off-hand way.
"Go and sing when cousin Crœsus calls," murmured Harry Wilbur.
"I don't care about 'Maid of Athens,'" said Val, out loud.
"Oh yes; come," Ethan urged, good-humoredly.
"Go and sing when our guests ask you," said Mrs. Gano, in a reproving undertone; and then, as Val got up to obey, she said, in her usual clear accents: "Not too loud. You know I don't like boisterous singing in a parlor."
Val began with the others, in a voice quite depressed enough to please Mrs. Gano. Even Emmie's faint fluting came out more effectively, and Val could easier have wept than gone on singing. Emmie sang two more songs, Julia laughing and coquetting with Ethan over prelude and interlude; and then Julia played a nocturne.