“Now sing ‘Hello, Central. Give Me Heaven!’” commanded Dora, who was looking both proud and triumphant, and without a second’s hesitation, Lillie plunged into another sentimental ballad, if possible even more mournful than “Poppa, Tell Me Where is Momma!”
The hour that followed was one of the most uncomfortable Gretel had ever spent. It seemed as if Lillie’s stock of songs was endless. The moment one came to an end her proud sister requested another, and the more she sang the more she appeared to be enjoying herself. Peter looked very much bored, but dared not express his feelings in Dora’s presence, and was forced to content himself with chewing a large piece of gum, which he had produced from his pocket and occasionally giving vent to his emotions by kicking the legs of the sofa viciously. Gretel was just beginning to wonder whether Lillie intended to go on for the rest of the evening, when a diversion was caused by a ring at the door-bell, which caused a momentary excitement.
“I’ll go and see who it is,” said Dora. “Just keep still till I come back, Lillie. If it’s callers they mustn’t hear anything. They might tell Mrs. Marsh.”
Dora hurried away, and profound silence reigned in the parlor during her absence. Peter stuck his tongue out at Lillie, by way of giving vent to his long pent-up rage, but she was so much absorbed in trying to recall the third verse of “Just as the Sun Went Down,” to notice him. In a few moments Dora returned.
“It’s all right,” she announced cheerfully; “it was only a girl I know, who lives down on the second floor. She wants me to go to her room for a minute to fit a waist on her. I won’t be long, and mind you behave yourselves while I’m gone.”
“Of course we’ll behave,” protested Lillie, indignantly; “what do you think we are, anyway?”
“Oh, you’re all right, I guess, but I’m not so sure about Peter. You’ll be a good boy, won’t you, Peter?”
“Yep,” promised Peter, and Dora departed, after repeating the assurance that she would not be long.
No sooner had the outer door of the apartment closed behind Dora than her younger brother was on his feet. A look of daring and defiance had suddenly replaced the rather vacant expression of his countenance. In two rapid strides he reached the piano, and seized his sister firmly, but not gently, by one of her long braids.
“Come off of there,” he commanded in a tone of authority. “Quit your squalling, and give somebody else a chance to show off.”