"You will wake the house up."
"And if the public expect an actress to please them," she said, saucily, "they must take the consequences of her practising."
She went to the piano, and opened it. There was a fine courage in her manner as she struck the chords and sang the opening lines of the gay song:—
"'Threescore o' nobles rode up the King's ha'
But bonnie Glenogie's the flower of them a',
Wi' his milk-white steed and his bonnie black e'e.'"
—but here her voice dropped, and it was almost in a whisper that she let the maiden of the song utter the secret wish of her heart—
"'Glenogie, dear mither, Glenogie for me.'
"Of course," she said, turning round to her father, and speaking in a business-like way, though there was a spice of proud mischief in her eyes, "There is a stumbling-block, or where would the story be! Glenogie is poor; the mother will not let her daughter have anything to do with him; the girl takes to her bed with the definite intention of dying."
She turned to the piano again.
"'There is, Glenogie, a letter for thee,
Oh, there is, Glenogie, a letter for thee.
The first line he looked at, a light laugh laughed he;
But ere he read through it, tears blinded his e'e.'
"How do you like the air, papa?"