Uplifted
bows--and silence.
"Good!" said a hearty voice behind them. Everybody looked up,
smiling--even the second violin. His children always smiled when Mr.
Roderick Birch came in. It would have been a sour temper which could
have resisted his genial greeting.
"Mother would like the _'Lullaby'_ next," he said. "She's rather tired
to-night. And after the _'Lullaby'_ I want a little talk with you all."
Something in his voice or his eyes made his elder daughter take notice
of him, as he dropped into a chair by the fire. "Play your best," she
warned the others, in a whisper. But they needed no warning. Everybody
always played his best for father. And if mother was tired--
The notes of the second violin fell daintily, caressing those which
wrought out the melody enveloping but never overwhelming them. As the
music ceased, the leader, turning to the second violin, met her
reluctant eyes with a softening in his own keen ones. The hint of a
laugh curved the corners of her lips as his smiled broadly. It was all
the truce necessary. Charlotte's sulks never lasted longer than Lanse's
impatience.
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