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Updated: May 13, 2025
Ten minutes to ten! Just time for one brief song. Let us make hay while the sun lasts, madame, for it goes down suddenly in Mauravania; and for some of us it never comes up again!" Then, throwing himself upon the piano-seat, he ran his fingers across the keys and broke into the stately measures of the national anthem.
"I know you'll bungle those tenths." Falbe moved to the piano-seat. "Oh, let's have a shot at it," he said. "If Lady Barbara won't mind, play that one through to me first, Mike." "Oh, presently, Hermann," he said. "It makes such an infernal row that you can't hear anything else afterwards. Do sing, Miss Sylvia; my aunt won't really mind will you, Aunt Barbara?" "I am suffering from shock.
"Miss Simpson," he said, coming stiffly forward, "I should like to hear you sing that song once more before I Won't you sing it?" "Why, yes," she said, and she slipped laterally into the piano-seat. At the end of the first stanza he gave a long sigh, and then he was silent to the close.
But Miss Brown She made toward the nursery, doing her newest dance step. Miss Brown was stocky, with a firm tread and an eye of decision. Up and down the key-board of the instrument her plump hands galloped. Gwendolyn paused beside the piano-seat. The air was vibrant with melody. The lifted face, the rocking, the ardent touch all these inspired hope. The gray eyes were wide with eagerness.
She pointed a stubby finger at the piano-seat. Gwendolyn climbed up, her cheeks scarlet with wounded dignity, her breast heaving with a rancor she dared not express. "Do I have to play that old piece?" she asked. "You must," with rising inflection. "Up at Johnnie Blake's it sounded nice. 'Cause my moth-er " "Ready!" Miss Brown set the metronome to tick-tocking. Then she consulted a watch.
And beside Gwendolyn trotted Johnnie Blake. The piano-seat was Johnnie. His eyes were blue, and full of laughter. His small nose was as freckled as Jane's. His brown hair disposed itself in several rough heaps, as if it had been winnowed by a tiny whirlwind. "Good-morning," said Gwendolyn, curtseying. "Hello!" returned Johnnie while Gwendolyn smiled at herself in the pier-glass.
Then, throwing himself upon the piano-seat, he ran his fingers across the keys and broke into the stately measures of the national anthem. And, of a sudden, while the song was yet in progress, the clock in the corridor jingled its musical chimes and struck the first note of the hour. He jumped to his feet and lifted both hands above his head. "Mauravania!" he cried. "Oh, Mauravania! For thee!
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