Patsy had played this same piece from start to finish seven times since dinner, because it was the only one she knew; but the Major could have listened to it seven hundred times without the flicker of an eyelash.

It was not that he admired so much the "piece" the girl was playing as the girl who was playing the "piece." His pride in Patsy was unbounded.

That she should have succeeded at all in mastering that imposing looking instrument--making it actually "play chunes"-- was surely a thing to wonder at.

But then, Patsy could do anything, if she but tried.
Suddenly Uncle John gave a dreadful snort and sat bolt upright, gazing at his companions with a startled look that melted into one of benign complacency as he observed his surroundings and realized where he was.
The interruption gave Patsy an opportunity to stop playing the tune.

She swung around on the stool and looked with amusement at her newly awakened uncle.
"You've been asleep," she said.
"No, indeed; quite a mistake," replied the little man, seriously.