There's a dear.' Thyrza was in sore trouble.

Music, if it were but a street organ, always stirred her heart and made her eager for the joy of song.

She had never known what it was to sing before a number of people; the prospect of applause tempted her.

Yet she had scarcely the courage, and the thought of Lydia's grief and anger--for Lydia would surely hear of it--was keenly present.
'It's getting late,' she replied nervously.

'I can't stay; I can't sing to-night.' Only one or two people in the room knew her by sight, but Totty had led to its being passed from one to another that she was a good singer.