“Left face!” cried Alice; “forward, file right, march!” And her company went tumbling with bursts of laughter up the steps and into the Hall.
Lucy took her seat at the piano.
“Why, where is the Don?” asked my grandfather, looking round.
“Lucy has a new solo for us,” said Alice,—“perhaps,—” added she, conscience-stricken.
“Oho!” cried Mr. Whacker, settling himself.
“What new solo?” asked Lucy.
“That—what do you call it?” replied Alice, rather vaguely.
“The Sonata I have been learning?”
“Oh, yes; that’s what we want.”
Lucy struck the opening chords and began.