"There!" she said, transferring the look to Jane, "you see how it always
is when I am trying to have a good time! Even at my own table I can't
budge or crack a joke; with those two men behind my chair I feel like my
own tombstone. Lock that door," she said to Jane; "I _will_ have a good
time, in spite of them! Sit down; I'm going to play the 'Java March' for
you."

She struck out several ponderous and vengeful chords. "Why," called Jane,
"is _that_ the 'Java March'?"

She spread out her elbows and stalked up and down singing:


"'Oh, the _Dutch_ compa-_nee_
Is the _best_ compa-_nee_!'"


"Right again!" cried Mrs. Bates. "You _are_ one of us--just as I said!"

"Well, if that's the 'Java March,'" said Jane, "it's in an old book we
used to have about the house years and years ago. Only, if you bring it
up as an example of pa's taste--"

"He liked it because I played it, perhaps," said Mrs. Bates, quietly.
"Besides, why should you put it to those shocking words? It _is_ in that
book," she continued, "and I've got one here just like it."

"Is it the one with 'Roll on, Silver Moon,' and 'Wild roved the Indian
maid, bright What's-her-name'?"