And I don't want to have two wrongnesses in one day, bad as I am." She returned at once to the drawing-room, and, seating herself again at the piano, went steadily up and down a whole scale, trying seriously to turn in her thumbs at the right places and to put her fingers where they ought to be when she wanted them.

She really worked hard for five minutes, and then stopped and congratulated herself that the hour must be nearly over.
"But I must play over Gran'ma's little tune," she said to herself.
"Gran'ma's so fond of it, and it is pretty, only I don't like his being killed.

Malbrook was killed, I know he was.

Gran'ma told me so." She got out an old music-book of Madam's young days, and turned to a page on which were a number of small tunes of a few bars each, and each marked with a name.
She began to play the old air of Malbrook, very sweetly and plaintively, so as quite to justify Miss Goodchild's opinion that she had a taste for music.

But at the last bar Terry's little hands fell limp, and she burst out crying.
"I know he was killed!" she said; "and what with Jocko's knees and everything I can't bear it.