So Mary played and sang “Sweet Home.” Her voice was sweet and fresh, far superior to her cousin’s, and her performance was wholly free from affectation.
“Thank you,” said Tom, at the conclusion of the song. “I enjoyed it very much.”
He was about to ask for another song, when Imogene said:
“Don’t bang away on the piano any more, Mary, I am sure Mr. Temple will gladly excuse you.”
“You are mistaken,” said Tom, “I particularly enjoy your cousin’s singing.”
“I want to show you some engravings,” said Imogene, determined to separate the two.
Mary rose from the piano. It would be impossible to continue after such a broad hint.
“I shall hope to hear you again,” said Tom, as he led her to a seat.
“Some other time I will sing to you, if you wish,” said Mary. “Imogene doesn’t want me to now.”
“What a spiteful girl her cousin is!” thought Tom. “She’s a little more disagreeable than James, if possible. If she expects to make any impression on me, she’s very much mistaken.”