"
Diana regarded him coolly, her small face set like a flint.
"No." She fairly threw the negative at him,
He stared at her--he was accustomed to more docile pupils--and the two
girls who had remained in the room to listen to the lessons following
their own huddled together with scared faces. The _maestro_ in a royal
rage was ever, in their opinion, to be regarded from much the same
viewpoint as a thunderbolt, and that any one of his pupils should dare
to defy him was unheard-of. In the same situation as that in which
Diana found herself, either of the two girls in question would have
meekly picked up the music and, dissolving into tears, made the
continuance of the lesson an impossibility, only to be bullied by the
_maestro_ even more execrably next time.
"Pick that up," repeated Baroni stormily.
"I shall do nothing of the kind," retorted Diana promptly. "You threw
it there, and you can pick it up. I'm going home." And, turning her
back upon him, she marched towards the door.
A sudden twinkle showed itself in Baroni's eyes. With unaccustomed
celerity he pranced after her.
"Come back, little Pepper-pot, come back, then, and we will continue
the lesson."
Diana turned and stood hesitating.
"Who's going to pick up that music?" she demanded unflinchingly.
"Why, I will, thou most obstinate child"--suiting the action to the
word. "Because it is true that professors should not throw music at
their pupils, no matter"--maliciously--"how stupid nor how dull they
may be at their lesson.
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