From the living room came the loud drumming of the player piano. The instrument had not been much in use since the death of Janice's mother. Somehow it seemed to both Janice and daddy that they did not care to hear the piano that mother played so frequently for them in the evening.
But the instrument was in use now—no mistaking it. There are different ways of playing a mechanical piano. Delia's way was to get all the noise out of it that was possible.
Janice ran downstairs in some vexation. There was no particular crime in the new girl's using the instrument, even without asking permission. Yet when there was so much to do about the house and, as she saw plainly, there had been so little done, Janice was vexed enough to give Delia a good talking to.
And then she hesitated with her hand on the knob of the living-room door. If she got Delia angry the woman might leave as abruptly as Olga Cedarstrom had left. It was a thought suggesting tragedy. Janice waited to calm herself while the new girl pumped away on the piano in a perfect anvil chorus.
Janice opened the door. By the number of rolls spread out on the top of the piano it was plain that Delia had played more music than she had done housework. The Garibaldi March came to a noisy conclusion."
"Oh, my!" sighed Delia, in her squeaky voice, "ain't that wonderful?"
"I should say it was," Janice said quickly. "Wonderful, indeed!"
"Oh!" shrieked Delia, flopping around on the bench and glaring at
Janice, one hand clutching at her bosom. "You scare't me."
"I think you ought to be scared. Your vegetables were boiling over, Delia."
"Oh, you came in so sudden!" gasped the big woman. "I—I've got a weak heart. You oughtn't to scare me so. I can see mebbe that Swede girl had a hard time here. There is more than cats is the matter. And that woman next door has been around to find out how her cat's leg come broke."