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Nobody

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Год написания книги
2017
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"I do not know what you would call a voice," said Lois, smiling.

"But you sing?"

"Hymns. Nothing else."

"Have you a hymn-book? with music, I mean?"

Lois brought one. Mrs. Barclay played the accompaniment of a familiarhymn, and Lois sang.

"My dear," exclaimed the former when she had done, "that is delicious!"

"Is it?"

"Your voice is very fine; it has a peculiar and uncommon richness. Youmust let me train that voice."

"I should like to sing hymns as well as I can," Lois answered, flushing somewhat.

"You would like to sing other things, too."

"Songs?"

"Yes. Some songs are beautiful."

"I never liked much those I have heard."

"Why not?"

"They seemed rather foolish."

"Did they! The choice must have been unfortunate. Where did you hearthem?"

"In New York. In company there. The voices were sometimes delightful; but the words – "

"Well, the words?"

"I wondered how they could like to sing them. There was nothing in thembut nonsense."

"You are a very severe critic!"

"No," said Lois deprecatingly; "but I think hymns are so much better."

"Well, we will see. Songs are not the first thing; your voice must betrained."

So a new element came into the busy life of that winter; and music nowmade demands on time and attention which Lois found it a littledifficult to meet, without abridging the long reading hours anddiligent studies to which she had hitherto been giving all her sparetime. But the piano was so alluring! And every morsel of real musicthat Mrs. Barclay touched was so entrancing to Lois. To Lois; Madge didnot care about it, except for the wonder of seeing Mrs. Barclay'sfingers fly over the keys; and Charity took quite a different viewagain.

"Mother," she said one evening to the old lady, whom they often calledso, "don't it seem to you that Lois is gettin' turned round?"

"How, my dear?"

"Well, it ain't like the Lois we used to have. She's rushin' at booksfrom morning to night, or scritch-scratching on a slate; and the resto' the time she's like nothin' but the girl in the song, that had'bells on her fingers and rings on her toes.' I hear that piano-fortygoing at all hours; it's tinkle, tinkle, every other thing. What's thegood of all that?"

"What's the harm?" said Lois.

"What's she doin' it for, that woman? One 'ud think she had come herejust on purpose to teach Madge and you; for she don't do anything else.What's it all for? that's what I'd like to be told."

"I'm sure she's very kind," said Madge.

"Mother, do you like it?"

"What is the harm in what we are doing, Charity?" asked her youngersister.

"If a thing ain't good it's always harm!"

"But these things are good."

"Maybe good for some folks; they ain't good for you."

"I wish you would say 'are not,'" said Lois.

"There!" said Charity. "There it is! You're pilin' one thing on top ofanother, till your head won't stand it; and the house won't be highenough for you by and by. All these ridiculous ways, of people thatthink themselves too nice for common things! and you've lived all yourlife among common things, and are going to live all your life amongthem. And, mother, all this French and music will just make Loisdiscontented. You see if it don't."

"Do I act discontented?" Lois asked, with a pleasant smile.

"Does she leave any of her work for you to do, Charity?" said Madge.

"Wait till the spring opens and garden must be made," said Charity.

"I should never think of leaving that to you to do, Charity," said

Lois, laughing. "We should have a poor chance of a garden."

"Mother, I wish you'd stop it."

Mrs. Armadale said, however, nothing at the time. But the next chanceshe had when she and her youngest granddaughter were alone, she said,

"Lois, are you in danger of lettin' your pleasure make you forget yourduty?"

"I hope not, grandmother. I do not think it. I take these things to beduty. I think one ought always to learn anything one has an opportunityof learning."

"One thing is needful," said the old lady doubtfully.

"Yes, grandmother. I do not forget that."

"You don't want to learn the ways of the world, Lois?"

"No, grandmother."

CHAPTER XXVII
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