“Now stop fighting this minute, the two of you,” she commanded. “You didn’t come here to fight. Sit right down at that piano, Lillie, and show Miss Gretel how you can sing.”
Thus admonished, Lillie took her place on the piano stool, and the other three seated themselves in a solemn row on the sofa.
“What shall I begin with?” inquired Lillie. “I know such a lot of songs; I never have any idea what to sing first.”
“Sing ‘Poppa, Tell Me Where is Momma,’” suggested Dora. “That’s a beautiful song, and so touching; I know Miss Gretel will love it.”
Peter muttered something about “that stuff being no good,” but nobody paid any attention to him, and after striking a few preliminary chords Lillie began to sing:
“‘Poppa, tell me where is Momma?’
Said a little child one day;
‘Tell me why I cannot see her—
Tell me why she went away.’”
Gretel gave one little horrified gasp, and clasped her hands tightly. For the first moment she was so disappointed that she could scarcely keep back her rising tears. Was this the music to which she had been looking forward so eagerly all day? By a great effort she controlled the sudden desire to put her fingers in her ears, to shut out those dreadful, unharmonious sounds, but politeness soon overcame other feelings, and by the time Lillie had finished her song and turned from the piano for the expected applause, she was able to give a faint smile, and murmur something about “it’s being very pretty.”