“I only play a little. Do you play, Gilbert?”
“No, Miss Laura.”
“Or sing?”
“A little.”
“Then I’ll make a bargain; I will play if you will sing.”
“I hardly feel prepared to sing in company.”
“This isn’t company. You needn’t mind any of us. Fred, open the folding-doors, will you?”
The piano was in the parlor adjoining. The doors were thrown open, and Laura sat down to the piano. Two or three songs were selected, and Gilbert sang to Laura’s accompaniment. He had a good voice, and a correct ear, and the double performance passed off smoothly.
“Doesn’t your brother sing?” asked Gilbert.
“Fred? He don’t know one tune from another; besides, he don’t like the piano. The hand-organ is his favorite instrument.”