"Ma, my head aches so dreadfully."
She looked directly in his eyes.
"It does truly, ma; I began right earnest, Aunt Sarah will tell you, but—"
There was something in her face which prevented him from going further.
"Where does your last lesson commence, my dear?"
He reluctantly pointed out the page.
"Let me hear how well you can play it."
"O Frankie!" she exclaimed, after he had touched a few chords. "What will your teacher say?"
"I couldn't play with such a bad headache, ma."
"Well, you may go to your room now, and lie down, while I carry the yarn to Nancy."