Ashe stifled a little yawn. He threw himself down by Mary, vowing that there was no more pleasure to be got out of pictures now that people would try to know so much about them. Mary meanwhile raised herself involuntarily to look into the farther room, where the noise made by Cliffe and Lady Kitty had increased.
"They are going to sing," said Ashe, lazily—"and it won't be hymns."
In fact, Lady Kitty had opened the piano, and had begun the first bars of something French and operatic. At the first sound of Kitty's music, however, Lady Grosville drew herself up; she closed the volume of Evangelical sermons for which she had exchanged the Times; she deposited her spectacles sharply on the table beside her.
"Amy!—Caroline!"
Those young ladies rose. So did Lady Grosville. Kitty meanwhile sat with suspended fingers and laughing eyes, waiting on her aunt's movements.
"Kitty, pray don't let me interfere with your playing," said Lady Grosville, with severe politeness—"but perhaps you would kindly put it off for half an hour. I am now going to read to the servants—"
"Gracious!" said Kitty, springing up. "I was going to play Mr. Cliffe some Offenbach."
"Ah, but the piano can be heard in the library, and your cousin Amy plays the harmonium—"
"Mon Dieu!" said Kitty. "We will be as quiet as mice. Or"—she made a quick step in pursuit of her aunt—"shall I come and sing, Aunt Lina?"
Ashe, in his shelter behind Mary Lyster, fell into a silent convulsion of laughter.