"Suppose you wheel me into the sitting-room; I hear Dexie at the piano."
The music suddenly ceased as the door opened, and Guy pushed Mr. Sherwood's couch into the room.
"It is too bad to waste that sweet music on bare walls, Miss Dexie," said Guy smiling, "so I have brought an audience. Go on with what you were playing; the little I heard was very beautiful, so do not let us interrupt you. I am told that I am not a very good judge of music, but I know that the piece you were just playing was something finer than most piano pieces," for he had recognized it as the same piece she had played when he had listened through the window, and it had ended in tears.
Guy came over to the piano, and leaning his elbow on the cover, watched her hands as they flew over the keys, and there was a puzzled look in his eyes as he asked as she finished:
"Is that what you were playing just before we came in, Miss Dexie?"
"No; but do you not think it is a very pretty thing?"
"Oh, yes, very nice; but—"
"Well, here is a new song just out, and if you do not think it is beautiful I will agree at once with the one who told you that you were not a good judge of music," and her clear voice sounded through the room.
"Yes, that is very fine, Miss Dexie. The words are almost too pathetic, or else you make them sound that way. But let us have the first piece; there is something peculiar in it, I fancy," and he picked up some sheet music from the stand and began to look it over.