Cary.
"What a good touch you have!" she said, sitting down by the piano, and
apparently quite unaware of the storm. "I love music dearly, and I
thought perhaps you'd let me come and listen to your playing for a little
while. The fingering of that 'Serenade' is awfully hard, isn't it? I
thought I should never get it, myself--never did, really well, in fact!
Do you like your teacher?"
"I never had a lesson in my life," replied Molly, the sobs rising in her
throat again; "there are two good ones in Wallacetown, but, you see, we
never could af--"
"Well, some teachers do more harm than good," interrupted her visitor,
"probably you've escaped a great deal. Play something else, won't you? Do
you mind this dim light? I like it so much."
So Molly opened the piano and began again, doing her very best. She chose
the simple things she knew by heart, and put all her will-power as well
as all her skill into playing them well. It was only when she stopped,
confessing that she knew no more, that Mrs.
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