“Ah! I thought so. I paid enough for your education, any how. It would be hard if you hadn’t learned any thing else except squalling and banging on the piano.”
I said nothing.
“Why do you stare so, d—n you?” he cried, looking savagely at me.
I looked at the floor.
“Come now,” said he. “I sent for you to see if you can dance. Dance!”
I stood still. “Dance!” he repeated with an oath. “Do you hear?”
“I can not,” said I.
“Perhaps you want a partner,” continued he, with a sneer. “Here, Johnnie, go and help her.”
“I’d rather not,” said John.
“Clark, you try it—you were always gay,” and he gave a hoarse laugh.