“I think they are very nice, Florence especially, but it is such a pity that they talk slang; it seems to spoil them, somehow.”
“I agree with you that it is bad style, but, you see, they have learned it from their brothers.”
Bad style, that was all. Bessie’s gentle-looking mouth closed firmly with the expression it always wore when politeness forbade her to air her true opinions, but in her own heart she was saying:
“Bad style. That is how worldly minded people talk. That is how they palliate these sins against good taste and propriety. I like these girls; they are genuine, somehow; but I suppose our bringing up has made us old-fashioned, for I seemed to shrink inwardly every time they opened their lips. Surely it must be wrong to lose all feminine refinement in one’s language. There were no young men here, happily, to hear them; but if there had been, they would have expressed themselves in the same manner. That is what I cannot understand, now girls can lay aside their dignity and borrow masculine fashions. What a little lady Christine would have seemed beside them! Chrissy has such pretty manners.”
The dinner hour passed more pleasantly than on the previous evening. Richard talked more, and seemed tolerably at his ease. He followed them into the drawing-room afterward, and asked his sister to sing, but, to Bessie’s vexation, Edna declined under the pretext of fatigue, and could not be induced to open the piano. Bessie felt provoked by her wilfulness, and she was so sorry to see the cloud on Richard’s face, for he was passionately fond of music, as he had informed Bessie at dinner-time, that she ventured to remonstrate with Edna.
“Do sing a little, just to please your brother; he looks so disappointed, and you know you are not a bit tired.” But Edna shook her head, and her pretty face looked a little hard.
“I do not wish to please him; it is just because he has asked me that I will not sing a note this evening. I intend to punish Richard for his rudeness to me. I begged him to stay home for our garden party to-morrow; but no, he will not give up his stupid cricket. He says he is captain, and must be with his boys; but that is all nonsense; he does it to spite me.”
“Oh, very well,” returned Bessie good-humoredly, for she would not quarrel with Edna for her perversity. “If you mean to be so obdurate, I will sing myself.” And Bessie actually walked across the room and addressed Richard, who was moodily turning over his sister’s music.
“Edna does not feel inclined to sing to-night, but if you can put up with my deficiencies, I will try what I can do. My music is rather old-fashioned, but I know one or two pretty ballads, if you care to hear them.”
“Thanks; I should like it very much,” was all Richard said, as he opened the piano; but his face cleared like magic. It was not the song he wanted, but that some one should care to please him. All his life long this had been his longing; and the cold indifference with which his expressed wishes had always been met by his mother and Edna had chilled his affectionate nature. Bessie had a pretty voice, though it showed want of training, but she could sing a simple ballad with much sweetness and feeling, and Richard, who had a fine ear for music, avowed himself much pleased.