Colonel Falconer came in presently, with his kind, intelligent face and fine military bearing, and was charmed with the beauty of the two girls, for Juliette looked her best in a dress of black net with pearl jewelry.
“It is a pity for so much loveliness to be wasted on an old fellow like me. I hope we shall have some callers after dinner,” he said gayly.
After dinner he begged Juliette to give them some music, but, with a malicious glance at Pansy, she exclaimed:
“I do not like to touch the piano, as I am sure your wife plays ever so much better than I do.”
Pansy smiled, and answered coolly:
“Then your musical attainments must be very superficial, indeed, Miss Ives, for I only know enough of music to play my own accompaniments to a few songs.”
“Then you will give us a song, won’t you, and I will play afterward?” cried artful Juliette, thinking that here, at least, she could outshine her uncle’s wife.
“Certainly,” Pansy answered carelessly, and moved toward the piano, secure in her consciousness of an exquisitely sweet voice, which had had careful culture when she was a simple schoolgirl, before her father died.
Colonel Falconer leaned against the piano, with his back to the door, and Juliette began to turn over the piles of music.
“Don’t trouble yourself. I will sing some little thing from memory,” said Pansy.