She seated herself in companionable proximity, and fell to talking of family news and family doings, since they two had last met.
"And your story?" her uncle asked presently.
"It came back," Hazel said, shaking her head dolefully. "I was particularly sorry, as I had a special and good purpose to spend the money on."
"A new frock?" inquired her uncle.
Hazel opened her eyes at this frivolous sally; her simple ideas upon dress began and ended with a few yards of inexpensive material, made up by the provident Mrs. Doidge—Hazel herself assisting with the long seams.
"Oh no," she explained, "I was expecting five pounds or so. If you like, you shall read it some day—coming fresh to it, you might be able to pick out faults that have escaped mine and Teddie's notice. But I very much fear," she added dejectedly, "that it is all faults from beginning to end, in which case, of course, it would not patch up."
"I daresay your talents lie in other directions," her uncle said, quite sympathetically for him. "You play and sing, don't you?"
"Yes," Hazel admitted.
"Thank Heaven you don't give the young ladies' invariable answer 'A little,'" Mr. Desborough exclaimed in approval. "The girl who plays and sings 'a little' is generally merciless in the number and length of her attempts, and in the frequency with which she renders them. Go to the piano now and let me hear what you can do."
Somewhat reluctantly, Hazel rose to do his bidding. Like all sensitive temperaments, the girl was influenced in a great degree by her surroundings and by the atmospheric conditions of the moment. Just now she felt utterly disinclined for this sudden and most unexpected performance of any musical ability she might possess, with her Uncle Desborough as auditor. The music-stool became a dock, and the little prisoner was put upon her trial before a severe and critical judge.