called tical.

She arrived finally at the harplike stool of the piano; but there she had
to wait until the clock in the hall above struck some division of the
hour for her guidance, and she rattled the brass rings that formed the
handles of drawers on either side of the keyboard. Later, her fingers
picking a precarious way through bass and treble, she heard Sidsall's
voice at the door; the latter was joined by their mother, and they went
out to the clatter of hoofs, the thin jingle of harness chains, where the
barouche waited for them in the street. Once Camilla obtruded into the
room. "I wonder you don't give yourself a headache," she remarked; "I
never heard more nerve-racking sounds."

Laurel gathered that Camilla was proud of this expression, which she must
have newly caught from some grown person. She considered a reply, but,
nothing sufficiently crushing occurring, she ignored the other in a
difficult transposition of her hands. Camilla left; the clock above
struck a second quarter; the third, while she honestly continued her
efforts up until the first actual note of the hour.

"Thank God that's over," she said in the liberal manner of a shipmaster.
Now only the walk with her grandfather remained of the actively tiresome
duties of the day. After dinner the sun blazed down with almost the heat
of midsummer, and Laurel felt unexpectedly indifferent, content to linger
in the house. Only too soon she heard inquiries for her; and in her
gaiter boots, a silk bonnet with a blue scarf tied under her chin and
flowing over a shoulder and palm leaf cashmere shawl, she accompanied the
old man across Pleasant Street and over the wide green Square to the
arched west gate with its gilt eagle and Essex Street.