"'Oh, you never need fear for me! I had rather learn music than to play. I will promise to practise the lessons as much as you wish me to.'"
"I didn't know then how hateful music was. I wish now I need never see a piano again."
Mrs. Colvin was displeased to hear her son talk in this way, and to see him look so angry. She raised her heart in prayer to God that she might rightly train this darling child.
Presently she said, in a firm voice,—
"Frankie, go to the parlor and practise one hour by the clock. Then, if you can run to Nancy's before dinner with the yarn, I am willing you should join your companions in the woods. But remember all depends on your prompt attention to your music."
"It's lonesome in the parlor, ma."
"Your aunt is there sewing, and she will help you count the time."
Frank went through the hall slowly, as if to an unpleasant task; for every day he grew more neglectful of his practice, and gave greater offence to his teacher. The piano was already open; so, after spending four or five minutes in finding the place in his book and pushing the music-stool back and forth, he took his seat.
"How long are you going to practise," inquired his aunt, in a cheerful voice.
"An hour," answered Frank, gloomily.