“Perhaps they will get tired of it,” Mysie proffered for consolation. But they did not tire. They never played later than nine o’clock at night again, but until that hour the music-loving and unmusical family played and sang to their hearts’ content. And the Beaumonts saw them at the Thomas concert, Ike and his mother and Jim, applauding everything. Henriette said the sight made her ill.
“‘NOW, BOYS, LET’S COME AND PLAY ON THE ORGAN’”
Time did not soften her rancor. She caught cold at the concert, and for two weeks was confined to her chamber with what Mrs. Armstrong called rheumatism, but Henriette called gout. During the time she assured Mysie that what she suffered from the Armstrong organ exceeded anything that gout could inflict.
“Do let me speak to Mrs. Armstrong,” begged Mysie.
“I spoke to that boy, the one with the freckles, myself yesterday,” replied Henriette, “out of the window. I told him if they didn’t stop I would have them indicted.”
“Why, how did you see him?” Mysie was aghast, but she dared not criticise Henriette.
“He came here with a bucket of water. Said his mother saw us taking water out of the well, and it was dangerous. The impertinent woman, she actually offered to send us water from their cistern every day.”
“But I think that was—was rather kind, sister, and it would be dreadful to have typhoid fever.”