but neither her father nor Marcus
would listen to that proposition for a moment.

Mr. Minford's nerves were extremely sensitive to sound. They vibrated to
it, like Aeolian harp in the wind. He placed pianos, cats, fish
peddlers, and hand organs on precisely the same footing, as nuisances.
Nothing but the ruling desire to make a lady of his child, could have
steeled him to the endurance, hour after hour, of her monotonous
"One--two--three--four," and the discordant banging which accompanied
those plaintive utterances.

The permanent discords with which the piano was afflicted, or the
striking of a false note, would sometimes set his teeth on edge; but he
would only hold his jaws tightly together, beat time with his head, and
smile a hypocritical approval. Sometimes he would torture himself
playfully, and make Pet laugh, by running a musical opposition with his
three-cornered file--a small but effective instrument.

Marcus Wilkeson was equally tolerant of Pet's practice, and there was
little false pretence in the patience with which he listened. Happily,
he was not all alive to sounds. Screeches and harmonies were pretty much
the same to him. Since he was a boy, he had been trying (privately) to
sing, or whistle, "Auld Lang Syne," and had not yet mastered the first
bar of it. He watched Pet's little fingers moving up and down the piano
with mechanical repetition, and was truly interested in the sight--for
two reasons: first, the motion was graceful; and second, she was
acquiring an accomplishment which he held in the highest esteem, because
Nature had put it entirely beyond his reach.

Sometimes, but not often, Bog was a listener at these rudimental
concerts. Since Marcus had come to the relief of the family, Bog felt
that his mission was ended. He knew that it was a piece of pure
hypocrisy to call once or twice a week to see if he could be of any
service, when he was aware that Mr. Minford had hired a woman, who lived
on the floor below, to do all their household work, marketing, cooking,
and general errands. He knew that Pet, on these occasions, asked him to
go for a spool of thread, or a paper of needles, or a package of candy,
merely to gratify him with the idea that he was making himself useful.
When he came into the room tidily dressed, and highly polished as to his
boots, he blushed even redder than he used to. It was not the
acquisition of a little money by Mr. Minford that had exalted his
daughter in the-eye