en followed it, and sat with it tipped back against the house, close
by the window of one of those mysterious rooms where Miss Etty immures
herself. I heard the Canary say in a scolding tone, "I should think
you might oblige me; it is such a trifle to do, it is not worth
refusing. Why should you care for him!"

No answer, though I confess my ears were erected to the sharpest
attitude of listening. I was wholly oblivious of _myself_, or I should
have taken myself away, as in honor bound.

"Won't you now, Etty? I'll only ask for one of our old duets, just
one."

"No, Flora," said Little Ugly, coldly enough.

"Why not?" No answer.

"To be sure, _he_ might hear. He would find out that you are
musical. What of that? Where is the use of being _able_ to sing, to
sing only when there's nobody to listen?"

"I sing only to friends. I cannot sing, I have never sung, to persons
in whom I have no confidence."

"Afraid! What a little goose!"

"Not afraid, exactly."

"I don't comprehend, I am sure."

"I do not expect you should."

"I never did understand you."

"You never will." Silence again.

Flora tuned up, and, of all tunes, she must needs hum _my_ song. I was
on my feet in a moment to depart, when I heard the clear tones of
Etty's voice again, and stood still, with one foot advanced.

"Flora, you should sharp that third note in the last line."

Flora murdered it again, with the most atrocious, cold-blooded
cruelty. I almost mocked the sound aloud in my passion.

"I do not tell you to vex you, only I saw that Mr. Ratcliffe--"

"You need not trouble yourself about _his_ opinion."

"I knew you would not like it, if I told you of a mistake. But I
supposed you would rectify it, and I should have done you a kindness,
even against your will."

"And I to hate you for it, eh?"

"If you can."

"Indeed I cannot, Etty, for you are my very best friend. But you are a
horrid, truth-telling, formidable body. Why not let me sing on, my own
way? I don't thank you a bit. I had rather sing it wrong, than be
corrected. It hurts my pride. I think people should take my music as
they find it. If it does not please them, they are not obliged to ask
me to sing. One note wrong can surely be put up with, if the rest is
worth hearing. I shall continue to sing it as I have done, I think."

"No,--please don't!"

"If I will mend it when I think of it, will you sing a duet?"

"Yes, though it will cost me more than you know."

"P