The family were, of course, quite "hurt" that Peter and I wouldn't
assist at the celebration. I cannot see why people WILL want you to do
things when they KNOW you don't care to!
The next evening, however, we had to go, when Peggy herself came around
and asked us. Of course Mr. Goward was with Peggy most of the time.
They certainly looked charming together, but rather conscious and
stiff. Every member of the family was watching his every motion. Oh,
I've been there! I know what it is!
Some of the neighbors were there, too. Peter hardly ever plays on the
big, old-fashioned grand-piano, but that night he was so bored he had
to. The family always THINK they're very musical--you can know the
style when I tell you that after Peter has been rambling through bits
from Schumann and Richard Strauss they always ask him if he won't "play
something." Well, after Peggy had gone into the other room with her
mother to do the polite to Mrs. Temple, Mr. Goward gravitated over to
where I sat in the big bay-window behind the piano; he had that
"be-good-to-me,-won't-you?" air that I know so well! Then we got to
talking and listening in between whiles--he knows lots of girls in the
Art League--till Peter began playing that heart-breaking "Im Herbst"
from the Franz Songs, and then he said:
"You're going to be my sister, aren't you? Won't you let me hold your
hand while your husband's playing that? It makes me feel so lonely!"
I answered, promptly, "Certainly; hold both hands if you like!"
And we laughed, and Peter turned around for a moment and smiled, too.
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