When this had happened, Roberta remembered, entirely too late, that it
was this which, whatever else she gave him, she had meant to refuse
him--at least until to-morrow. Because to-day was undeniably the
twenty-fourth of June--Midsummer's Day!
CHAPTER XXIV
THE PILLARS OF HOME
"Listen, grandfather--they're playing! We'll catch them at it. Here's an
open window."
Matthew Kendrick followed his grandson across the wide porch to a French
window opening into the living-room of the Gray home, at the opposite
end from that where stood the piano, and from which the strains of
'cello and harp were proceeding. The two advanced cautiously to take up
their position just within that far window, gazing down the room at the
pair at the other end.
Roberta, in hot-weather white, with a bunch of blue corn-flowers thrust
into her girdle, sat with her 'cello at her knee, her dark head bent as
she played. Ruth, a gay little figure in pink, was fingering her harp,
and the poignantly rich harmonies of Saint-Saeens' _Mon coeur s'ouvre a
ta voix_ were filling the room. Upon the great piano stood an enormous
bowl of summer bloom; the air was fragrant with the breath of it.
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