"A little," Mildred admitted. "But it has been so long since I have touched a key, that I am sure I should be very awkward if I attempted it. I think you play nicely."
The other laughed. "I only play when I am quite sure no one is likely to hear me. There is one piece I can play, and of which I am very fond. I heard you humming it the other day. As soon as the parlor is 'comfy,' I shall ask you to condescend to listen to me play it."
"What piece is that? Please tell me," Mildred inquired.
"Sweet Genevieve."
"Oh, yes...."
"Why, what is the matter, dearest?" cried Constance, hurrying toward her.
"Nothing, nothing!" said the other, hastily mopping her nose and eyes.
"Well, I'm relieved, but I thought I heard you sob, but of course you didn't. Of course not. Really, I begin to feel that if I don't get married soon, I'll become a nervous, cranky old maid."
"Please don't say such things about yourself," entreated Mildred. "You were not mistaken. I did—ah—I sobbed—I mean I coughed. I had something in my throat," she concluded nervously.
"I'm relieved," smiled the other, and, going to the piano, she struck the keys, and sang in a high contralto voice: