“I thought you were asleep,” answered the girl, stepping into the room.
“Asleep?” she answered tartly, “with that thing buzzing in one’s ears.”
“I quite agree with you,” smiled Barnes. “The ’cello is the last thing in the world to inspire sleep in the young.”
“It makes the most melancholic of sounds,” she sighed.
“There I cannot agree with you,” returned Barnes. “It sings most optimistically to me.”
“I prefer my music in the daytime,” she affirmed.
“Perhaps your taste runs to duets,” Barnes suggested.
Miss Van Patten had placed her instrument in the corner and was now returning.
“I think my niece plays very prettily with Carl,” agreed Aunt Philomela.
Barnes tried to reach the girl’s eyes. He couldn’t. He frowned.