None of your
wooden faces for me. And, dear heart, how her neck rises! La! how her
color comes and goes! Well, I do love the fiddle myself dearly; and
now, if her eyes are not brimming; I could kiss her! La! David," cried
she, bursting the bounds of silence, "that is enough of the tune the
old cow died of; take and play something to keep our hearts up--do."
Eve's good-humor and mirth were restored by David's success, and now
nothing would serve her turn but a duet, pianoforte and violin. Miss
Fountain objected, "Why spoil the violin?" David objected too, "I had
hoped to hear the piano-forte, and how can I with a fiddle sounding
under my chin?" Eve overruled both peremptorily.
"Well, Miss Dodd, what shall we select? But it does not matter; I feel
sure Mr. Dodd can play _a livre ouvert."_
"Not he," said Eve, hypocritically, being secretly convinced he could.
"Can you play 'a leevre ouvert,' David?"
"Who is it by, Miss Fountain?" Lucy never moved a muscle.
After a rummage a duet was found that looked promising, and the
performance began. In the middle David stopped.
"Ha! ha! David's broke down," shrieked Eve, concealing her uneasiness
under fictitious gayety. "I thought he would."
"I beg your pardon," explained David to Miss Fountain, "but you are
out of time."
"Am I?" said Lucy, composedly.
"And have been, more or less, all through."
"David, you forget yourself."
"No, no; set me right, by all means, Mr. Dodd. I am not a hardened
offender.
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