The piano, which Mr.Barstow had promised, duly made its appearance in the schoolhouse, to the delight of the scholars and the gentle satisfaction of Mrs.Martin, who, in addition to the rudimentary musical instruction of the younger girls, occasionally played upon it herself in a prim, refined, and conscientious fashion.
To this, when she was alone after school hours, she sometimes added a faint, colorless voice of limited range and gentlewomanly expression.

It was on one of these occasions that Twing, becoming an accidental auditor of this chaste, sad piping, was not only permitted to remain to hear the end of a love song of strictly guarded passion in the subjunctive mood, but at the close was invited to try his hand--a quick, if not a cultivated one--at the instrument.

He did so.

Like her, he added his voice.

Like hers, it was a love song.