“Are you going to give us some of that exquisite music to-night, Sophia?” asked Mr. Dale when he had finished his dinner. He looked languidly at his sister-in-law.
“On one condition I will,” she said. “The condition is this: you are to accompany my piano on the violin.”
Mr. Dale’s face became pale. He did not speak for a minute; then he rose and went nimbly on tiptoe out of the room.
There was silence for a short time. The girls and their aunt had migrated into the drawing-room. The drawing-room looked sweetly pretty with its open windows, its softly shaded lamps, its piano wide open, and the graceful figures of the girls flitting about. Even Pauline’s ugly blouse was forgotten. There was a sense of mystery in the air. Presently in the distance came the sound of a fiddle. It was the sound of a fiddle being tuned. The notes were discordant; but soon rich, sweeping melodies were heard. They came nearer and nearer, and Mr. Dale, still playing his fiddle, entered the room. He entered with a sort of dancing measure, playing an old minuet as he did so.
Miss Tredgold stepped straight to the piano and without any music, played an accompaniment.
“I have won,” she thought. “I shall send him away for change of air; then the study must be cleaned. I shall be able to breathe then.”
CHAPTER XIII.
NANCY SHOWS HER HAND.
It was not until after breakfast on the following morning that Miss Tredgold said anything to Pauline about the ugly shirt she had chosen to wear on the previous evening.