The Open Question Part 60

"Me and Val can sing 'Maid of Athens.'"

He seemed not to hear; he was talking so earnestly to Julia. _She_ heard plainly enough. She was only pretending to be oblivious. But Emmie was not to be done out of a share of the festivity.

"Cousin Ethan, do _you_ know 'Maid of Athens?'"

"Eh? What? 'Maid of Athens?' Yes."

"So do Val and me. Let's sing it."

"Very well. Will you accompany?" he asked Julia.

She nodded, and began the prelude.

Val didn't budge.

Emmie beckoned. Val studied the long, narrow, heelless silk shoes on her grandmother's feet, and made no sign.

"Come, Val," said Ethan, in an off-hand way.

"Go and sing when cousin Croesus calls," murmured Harry Wilbur.

"I don't care about 'Maid of Athens,'" said Val, out loud.

"Oh yes; come," Ethan urged, good-humoredly.

"Go and sing when our guests ask you," said Mrs. Gano, in a reproving undertone; and then, as Val got up to obey, she said, in her usual clear accents: "Not too loud. You know I don't like boisterous singing in a parlor."

Val began with the others, in a voice quite depressed enough to please Mrs. Gano. Even Emmie's faint fluting came out more effectively, and Val could easier have wept than gone on singing. Emmie sang two more songs, Julia laughing and coquetting with Ethan over prelude and interlude; and then Julia played a nocturne.

Harry Wilbur made a despairing grimace at this last performance. He rose presently with a determined manner, and quietly bade Mrs. Gano and her son good-night. Val went with him to the front door. They stood talking about her approaching departure, and how Wilbur, too, hoped to get something to do "in the East," so that he might be a witness of Val's triumphs. The conversation pleased her, but her grandmother would be "making eyebrows" if she stayed so long.

"Good-night, then. Look here, Val"--he took her hand warmly in both his own--"I've been awfully cut up lately. I was beginning to be afraid"--he nodded his yellow head towards the parlor--"afraid you might be--"

"Don't be a great silly;" and she ran back to the family circle.

After Julia finished, she got up while Ethan was still talking to her, and made her good-nights all round very prettily.

"But it's quite early," Ethan had said.

"They always send for me at nine."

"Send! Don't you live next door?"

"Not exactly. I have to walk half round the block to get to our gate. We aren't allowed to climb the fence," she added, in a confidential undertone, with a sly look back at Mrs. Gano as she gave Ethan her hand.

"Good-night."

"Sha'n't I see you to your gate?" he said, coming out into the hall. "My uncle ought not--"

"No, thank you. I think by the time I get my things on some one will be here for me."

He had refused to go to the Hornseys with Val, but he was quite ready to face the elements in order to take Julia home!

Critical eyes marked the unusual haste of the guest's hat-pinning and jacket-donning.

"Mrs. Gano always sends for Val," Julia said to Ethan, accounting for the origin of the repulsive custom.

He held her jacket for her.

"You haven't told me yet," he said, "how you learned to play like this?"

Julia laughed, too much pleased to venture on words.

"She has taken lessons," said Val, "ever since she was seven."

"You were sent away to study?"

"No," said Julia, tying her scarf with an effective air.

"But she's had _private_ lessons," Val explained, "besides the music cla.s.ses at the Sem."

"You really mean"--he was ignoring Val and looking down upon the happy Julia--"do you mean you've learned to play like this in New Plymouth?"

"Yes; of course I practise a good deal."

"As much as ever she likes, and n.o.body to say 'Not so boisterous,' and then go and lock the piano."

"Well, I must say I think it a very creditable result--with only provincial masters."

As he reached for his hat, he caught sight of Val's face.

"America, thou wear'st a threatening aspect. Mustn't I say provincial?"

At that moment a knock resounded loudly on the door. Julia carried off her disappointment discreetly enough, departing with the servant.

The young people went back to the parlor, but a gloom seemed to have fallen on the party. Mrs. Gano was closing the piano with her son's help.

"Emmie tells me," she was saying, "that Miss Julia complains my piano is out of tune. I wonder, that being the case, she is so fond of playing on it."

"It is out of tune," said Val; "but I suppose she thinks it better than nothing. Isn't she pretty?" Val asked her cousin, in a dogged tone.

"Extremely--most charming little person."

"She _usually_ has rather nice, retiring manners," remarked Mrs. Gano.

And then they said good-night.

Ethan looked inquiringly into his cousin's face. "It isn't late; come out on the veranda while I smoke a cigarette."

"I thought you objected to going out such weather as this."