“Is that ours?” Judy asked, considerably let down. But her mother, it was apparent, felt differently.
“Isn’t it lovely, John!” she exclaimed. “Real Victorian. Look at that fine old grille railing on the roof—”
Mrs. Lurie lost no time in entering the house, her husband following. She had to know at once.
There it was, a large, ebony, upright piano that dwarfed the parlor sprinkled liberally with overstuffed chairs and a small sofa, more chairs, tables with artificial flowers, lamps of all kinds. But Mrs. Lurie was radiant.
“They gave us the piano after all!”
“Yes, darling,” her husband said, equally happy. “Perhaps all that letter-writing helped.” Then he frowned as if he suddenly remembered. “It may not prove an unmixed blessing. Remember the conditions? Students must be permitted to practice any hour of the day.” He smiled, “Knowing how pressed they are for practice space, they’ll probably start at dawn!”
But Mrs. Lurie’s enthusiasm remained undampened. She’d have her two hours!
Meanwhile Fran brought up the last of the cartons and luggage and set them on the porch where Judy was gazing raptly at the mountains.
“Any time you want to climb,” he said shyly.
“I’d love to, but I expect to be rather busy—I’m going to act.” She paused for the effect.