would stand beside Cecilia, pouring forth song after
song, with her head slightly on one side, and one hand resting lightly
on the piano--an attitude which, after experiment with a mirror, she had
decided upon as especially becoming.

The song of the moment did make some demands upon her attention. It
had a disconcerting way of changing from sharps to flats; trouble being
caused by the singer failing to change also. Cecilia took her through it
patiently, going over and over again the tricky passages, and devoutly
wishing that Providence in supplying her stepmother with boundless
energy, a tireless voice and an enormous stock of songs, had also
equipped her with an ear for music. At length the lady desisted from her
efforts.

"That's quite all right," she said, with satisfaction. "I'll sing it
to-night. The Simons will be here, and they do like to hear what's new.
Go on with your dusting; I'll just run through a few pieces, and you can
tell me if I go wrong."

Cecilia hesitated, glancing at the clock.

"It is getting very late," she said. "Eliza told me she could dust the
room."

"Eliza!" said Mrs. Rainham. "Why, it's her silver day; she had no
business to tell you anything of the sort--and neither had you, to ask
her to do it. Goodness knows it's hard enough to make the lazy thing do
her own work. Just get your duster, and make sure as you come down that
the children are properly dressed for the dancing class." She broke into
a waltz.

Cecilia ran. Sounds of woe greeted her as she neared Avice's room,
and she entered, to find that damsel plunged in despair over a missing
button.

"It was on all right last time I wore the beastly dress," wailed she.
"If you'd look after my clothes like Mater said you had to, I wouldn't
be late. Whatever am I to do? I can't make the old dress shut with a
safety pin."

"No, you certainly can't," said her half-sister. "Never mind; there are
spare buttons for that frock, and I can sew one on." She accomplished
the task with difficulty, since Avice appeared quite unable to stand
still.

"Now, are you ready, Avice? Shoes, hat, gloves--where are your gloves?
How do you ever manage to find anything in that drawer?" She rooted
swiftly in a wild chaos, and finally unearthed the gloves. "Yes, you'll
do. Now, where's Wilfred?" Search revealed Wilfred, who hated dancing,
reading a "penny dreadful" in his room--ready to start, save for the
trifling detail of having neglected to wash an e