After tea and a long talk Antonio said to Phœbe—
“You have a nice piano there, and I’m sure you can play.”
“Oh yes, I can play lots.”
A child’s frankness is very charming, and one can easily forgive their pride and confidence in their own powers to do this, that, or the other.
Antonio was most indulgent. He seated her at the piano, drew up her sleeves a little way, and while she played air after air, listened as respectfully, and apparently as delighted as if he himself were the performer.
“Bravo! dearie,” he said, as he gently lifted her down from the stool; “you’ll be a capital player soon. Just keep on studying.”
“Can you play a little?” she asked naïvely.
Antonio smiled. “Yes, just a little,” he replied.
She seized his two hands, and jumped up and down, as children have a way of doing.
“Oh do, oh do,” she cried, “like a dear sir.”