In response
came a deep, resonant note from Roberta's 'cello, over which the silent
bow had been for some time suspended. There followed a minor scale,
descending well into the depths and vibrating dismally as it went.
Louis, a mocking light in his eye, strolled down the room to his
sisters.
"That's the way you feel about it, eh?" he queried, regarding Roberta
with brotherly interest. "Consigning the poor, innocent chap to the
bottom of the ladder, when he's doing his best to climb up to the
sunshine of your smile. Have you no respect for the opinion of your
betters?"
"Get out your fiddle and play the Grieg _Danse Caprice_, with us," was
her reply, and Louis obeyed, though not without a word or two more in
her ear which made her lift her bow threateningly. Presently the trio
were off, playing with a spirit and dash which drew all ears, and at the
close of the _Danse_ hearty applause called for more. After this
diversion, naturally enough, new subjects came up for discussion.
Returning to the living-room in search of a dropped letter, after the
family had dispersed for the night, Roberta found her mother lingering
there alone.
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