“Do you think your step-sister would be willing to allow such an escapade to go under her name?”
Tears of shame and anger flashed into Molly’s dark eyes.
“Molly Trueheart would not care—not a bit!” she declared, with a half sob. “And—and it’s none of your business, any way, Mr. Cecil Laurens, and I think you’re old enough to know better than to meddle with—anybody—like this. I would have told you all about it if you hadn’t been so smart, but now I won’t, so there! And you may go and tell Aunt Thalia all you know, if you’re mean enough, and of course you are!”
With that she bounced out of her chair and flew to the bay-window, where she stood with her back to him, her cheeks hot with anger, and her eyes so dim with tears that she could not see how brightly the stars were sparkling in the sky.
Cecil Laurens remained perfectly silent, and there was a glitter of anger in his violet eyes.
“What a little fury!” he was thinking. “I have always heard that the Barrys were high-spirited, but I never had an exhibition of their temper before. Pity to spoil such a pretty face flying into such a rage.”
Mrs. Barry’s ten minutes passed without bringing her back, and Mr. Laurens grew tired of watching Molly’s obdurate back. He opened the grand organ and sat down before it, pressing his fingers softly on the keys.
Music was his one passion, and he had devoted years to its study. He played now a low andante movement, full of grace and sweetness and tenderness that soothed his own perturbed spirit, and made him momentarily forget the audacious girl who had disturbed him. Gliding from one melody into another, he paused, at last, with a sudden remembrance, and, turning his head, saw Molly close beside him.
The music had drawn her against her will by a strange, magnetic power. All the anger had died from her face and eyes, leaving a dreamy softness in its place.
“So I have soothed your savage spirit?” he exclaimed, with a smile, and Molly started and blushed.