"My dear child, you have improved wonderfully," Mrs. Keith said, as Mildred concluded a much longer and more difficult piece of music than the one with which she had begun.
"She has indeed! I'm quite proud of her performance," echoed Mr. Keith.
"She does make terrible fine music," put in Celestia Ann; "but I wisht she'd stop a bit, or them dishes o' mine 'll never git washed."
"And I must go to the office," said Mr. Keith, looking at his watch, and glancing about in search of his hat.
"And I to my sewing," added Mildred, rising.
The children entreated somewhat clamorously for more, but yielded their wish at once on mother's decision that they must wait till after tea.
"Oh, the books!" cried Mildred, springing toward them with an eager gesture. "But no," turning away with a half sigh, "I must not take time to even look at them now."
"Yes, you may," her mother said smilingly; "glance at the titles, and dip in here and there, just to whet your appetite; read this note from your uncle, too, and then we can talk over your plans for mental culture, while busy with our needles."
"Always the same kind, indulgent mother," Mildred said, with a look of grateful love. "I will do so, then, and try to work fast enough afterwards to make up for lost time."
Half an hour later she joined her mother and sisters, who were all sewing industriously.