Mr. Stuart had probably seen such cases before, and knew how to manage them, for he continued urging the matter, until Ella arose, and throwing back her curls, sauntered to wards the piano, saying she should be obliged to have some one turn the leases for her.  Mr. Stuart of course volunteered his services, and after a violent turning of the music-stool by way of elevating it, and a turning back by way of lowering it, Ella with the air of a martyr, declared herself ready to play whatever Mr. Stuart should select, provided it were not “old.”

A choice being made she dashed off into a spirited waltz, skipping a good many notes, and finally ending with a tremendous crash.  Fond as Mr. Stuart was of music, he did not call for a repetition from her, but turning to Mary asked if she could play.

Ella laughed aloud at the idea, and when Mary replied that she did play a little, she laughed still louder, saying, “Why, she can’t play, unless it’s ‘Days of Absence,’ with one hand, or something of that kind.”

“Allow me to be the judge,” said Mr. Stuart, and leading Mary to the piano, he bade her play any thing she pleased.

Ida had been a faithful teacher, and Mary a persevering pupil, so that whatever she played was played correctly and with good taste; at least Mr. Stuart thought so, for he kept calling for piece after piece, until she laughingly told him her catalogue was nearly exhausted, and she’d soon be obliged to resort to the scales!

Ella looked on in amazement, and when Mary had finished playing, demanded of her where she had learned so much, and who was her teacher; adding that her fingering was wretched; “but then,” said she, “I suppose you can’t help it, your fingers are so stiff!”

For a moment Mr. Stuart regarded her with an expression which it seemed to Mary she had seen before, and then consulting his watch, said he must go, as it was nearly car time, After he was gone, Ella asked Mary endless questions as to where she met him, what he said, and if she told him they were sisters.  “How elegantly he was dressed,” said she, “Didn’t you feel dreadfully ashamed of your gingham sun-bonnet and gown?”

“Why, no,” said Mary.  “I never once thought of them.”

“I should, for I know he notices every thing,” returned Ella; and then leaning on her elbow so as to bring herself in range of the large mirror opposite, she continued, “seems to me my curls are not arranged becomingly this morning.”

Either for mischief, or because she really thought so, Mary replied “that they did not look as well as usual;” whereupon Ella grew red in the face, saying that “she didn’t think she looked so very badly.”

Just then the first dinner bell rang, and starting up Ella exclaimed, “Why-ee, I forgot that ma expected General H. to dine.  I must go and dress this minute.”