The piano was duly removed and placed in an upper room called the “hall,” where Mr. Mitchell kept the chronometers, where the family sewing was done, and where the larger part of the books were kept,—­a beautiful room, overlooking “the square,” and a great gathering-place for all their young friends.  When the piano was put in place, the sisters awaited the coming of the parents.  Maria stationed herself at the foot of the stairs, ready to meet them as they entered the front door; another, half-way between, was to give the signal to a third, who was seated at the piano.  The footsteps were heard at the door, the signal was given; a lively tune was started, and Maria confronted the parents as they entered.

“What’s that?” was the exclamation.

“Well,” said Maria, soothingly, “we’ve had the piano brought over.”

“Why, of all things!” exclaimed the mother.

The father laid down his hat, walked immediately upstairs, entered the hall, and said, “Come, daughter, play something lively!”

So that was all.

But that was not all for Mr. Mitchell; he had broken the rules accepted by the Friends, and it was necessary for some notice to be taken of it, so a dear old Friend and neighbor came to deal with him.  Now, to be “under dealings,” as it is called, was a very serious matter,—­to be spoken of only under the breath, in a half whisper.

“I hear that thee has a piano in thy house,” said the old Friend.

“Yes, my daughters have,” was the reply.

“But it is in thy house,” pursued the Friend.

“Yes; but my home is my children’s home as well as mine,” said Mr. Mitchell, “and I propose that they shall not be obliged to go away from home for their pleasures.  I don’t play on the piano.”

It so happened that Mr. Mitchell held the property of the “monthly meeting” in his hands at the time, and it was a very improper thing for the accredited agent of the society to be “under dealings,” as Mr. Mitchell gently suggested.

This the Friend had not thought of, and so he said, “Well, William, perhaps we’d better say no more about it.”

When the father came home after this interview he could not keep it to himself.  If it had been the mother who was interviewed she would have kept it a profound secret,—­because she would not have liked to have her children get any fun out of the proceedings of the old Friend.  But Mr. Mitchell told the story in his quiet way, the daughters enjoyed it, and declared that the piano was placed upon a firm foothold by this proceeding.  The news spread abroad, and several other young Quaker girls eagerly seized the occasion to gratify their musical longings in the same direction. [Footnote:  It is pleasant to note that this objection to music among Friends is a thing of the past, and that the Friends’ School at Providence, R.I., which is under the control of the “New England Yearly Meeting of Friends,” has music in its regular curriculum.]