He entered, and was moving along the passage, when Anna came out
through one of the parlour doors to meet him, and drawing her arm
through his, said, in a lively tone,--

"Come, George, I want to play for you a favourite piece. I've been
practising it for the last hour."

And she drew him into the parlour, and, taking her seat at the
piano, commenced running her fingers over the keys. Brainard stood
and listened to the music until the piece was finished, trying, but
in vain, to feel an interest in the performance.

"How do you like that?" said the wife, with animation, lifting her
sparkling eyes to the face of her husband, which was serious, in
spite of all he could do to give it a better expression.

"Beautifully performed," replied Brainard.

"And do you really think so?" said Anna, as she arose and leaning on
his arm again, drew him into the next room.

"Certainly, I do."

"Didn't you think the instrument a little out of tune?" asked Anna.

"No; it struck me as being in better tune than when you played last
evening."

"It's a fine instrument, certainly. I prize it very much."