"Your sister is naturally much annoyed, David," said his mother.
"Kathleen is evidently a very tiresome girl. She has locked the door of
their mutual bedroom, and declines to open it; she says that as the door
happens to be in her half of the room, she has perfect control over it."

David whistled. Ben burst out laughing.

"Well, now that is Irish," David said.

"If you take her part I shall hate you all the rest of my life," said
Alice, speaking with great passion.

"But can't you wait just for once?" asked David. "Any one could tell
she is just trying it on. She'll get tired of sitting there by herself
if only you have patience."

"But I am due at Cassandra's for supper" and Mary Addersley and Rhoda
Pierpont are to call for me at half-past seven."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said David.--"Ben, leave off teasing." For Ben
was whistling and jumping about, and making the most expressive faces at
poor Alice,--"I will see what I can do," he said, and he ran upstairs.
David was very musical; indeed, the soul of music dwelt in his eyes, in
his voice, in his very step. He might in some respects have been an
Irish boy himself. He bent down now and whistled very softly, and in the
most flute-like manner, "Garry Owen" through the keyhole. There was a
restless sound in the room, and then a cross voice said:

"Go away."