As evening came on they would draw more quietly about their paternal
centre. Often their chairs were forsaken, and they grouped themselves on
the lower steps, one above another, and surrendered themselves to the
tender influences of the approaching night. At such an hour the passer
on the river, already attracted by the dark figures of the broad-roofed
mansion, and its woody garden standing against the glowing sunset, would
hear the voices of the hidden group rise from the spot in the soft
harmonies of an evening song; swelling clearer and clearer as the thrill
of music warmed them into feeling, and presently joined by the deeper
tones of the father's voice; then, as the daylight passed quite away,
all would be still, and he would know that the beautiful home had
gathered its nestlings under its wings.

And yet, for mere vagary, it pleased them not to be pleased.

"Arti!" called one sister to another in the broad hall, one
morning,--mock amazement hi her distended eyes,--"something is goin' to
took place!"

"_Comm-e-n-t?_"--long-drawn perplexity.

"Papa is goin' to town!"

The news passed up stairs.

"Inno!"--one to another meeting in a doorway,--"something is goin' to
took place!"

"_Qu'est-ce-que c'est!_"--vain attempt at gruffness.