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Updated: June 19, 2025
And I tried to think I was really down there to Boston, singing to Lester; and that Mother was right in the next room waiting for me. Then I stopped and turned around on the piano-stool. And there was the coffin plate, and the wax cross, and the hair wreath; and the room was just as still as death. And I knew I wasn't in Boston.
We sat before the gas-fire of artificial logs. "Minnie, will you make a cup of tea for this poor boy," and he lowered his voice at the last two words, realising that I was hearing, too. "Yes, Jarv!" I sat at the table in the dining room. Jarvis Alexander Mackworth sat on the piano-stool, again playing the piano in rhythm rather than in accompaniment with the records ... it was Caruso now....
In the silence that followed, there crept into the firelit room the star-clear notes of a little prelude. Then the Maestro sang softly: But the poor Maestro could not finish the verse. He swung about on the piano-stool, trying to frame a laughing apology. Kirk went to him instantly, both hands outstretched in his haste.
The little girl climbed upon the piano-stool and began to count aloud, and after a while Edna bent down and put her hand on Felix's shoulder. "You grieved your mother this morning and spoke very disrespectfully to her. I know you regret it, and you ought to tell her so and ask her to forgive you. You would feel happier all day if you would only acknowledge your fault.
On the piano-stool rested a beribboned and beruffled baby's toilet basket. From behind the sofa pillow leered ridiculously the Teddy bear, just as it had left Cyril's desperate hand. No wonder, indeed, that Billy smiled. Billy was thinking of what Marie had said not a week before: "I shall keep the baby, of course, in the nursery.
The mother, sitting down on the piano-stool, took the little boy's hand and pulled him towards her. "Come, Lippo, there is nothing to cry about," she said calmly. "Listen while I explain this. It is a splendid thing to finish anything one has begun, but there are things that cannot be finished all at once.
Alma was left with Beaton near the piano, and he began to talk about the Dryfooses as he sat down on the piano-stool. He said he had been giving Miss Dryfoos a lesson on the banjo; he had borrowed the banjo of Miss Vance. Then he struck the chord he had been trying to teach Christine, and played over the air he had sung. "How do you like that?" he asked, whirling round.
She gaped, and leaned to one end of the sofa until, on the point of overbalancing' she recovered herself with a prodigious bounce. The floor vibrated at her every movement. At last she could keep silence no longer. "Oh, dear!" she said, yawning audibly. "It must be five o'clock at the very earliest." Agatha turned round upon the piano-stool, feeling that music and Lady Brandon were incompatible.
She slipped from the piano-stool to the floor, upon her knees, and her heavy arms fell upon the keys with a crashing discord, and her face buried itself in the large depths of one bent elbow, quite regardless of damage to Paquin's masterpiece of a summer sleeve; and with huge sobs the tears welled up and overflowed, taking everything they found in their way, including paint, and washing all down between the ivory keys of Margaret's piano.
"Something in analytical geometry, isn't it?" said I, turning round on my piano-stool. "Analytical pudding's end! It's a plan of a house, my boy, and, what's more, of this very house we're in! That's a find, and no mistake! These are the descriptions and explanations these bits of writing. It's a perfect labyrinth of Crete! Udolpho was nothing to it!"
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