when she touched upon that subject. The aunts did
not approve of that musical instrument, that was plain. Marcia wondered if
they always paused so long before speaking when they disapproved, in order
to show their displeasure. In fact, did they always disapprove of
everything?

"You will want to be very careful of it," said Aunt Amelia, looking at the
disputed article over her glasses, "it cost a good deal of money. It was
the most foolish thing I ever knew David to do, buying that."

"Yes," said Aunt Hortense, "you will not want to use it much, it might get
scratched. It has a fine polish. I'd keep it closed up only when I had
company. You ought to be very proud to have a husband who could buy a
thing like that. There's not many has them. When I was a girl my
grandfather had a spinet, the only one for miles around, and it was taken
great care of. The case hadn't a scratch on it."

Marcia had started toward the piano intending to open it and play for her
new relatives, but she halted midway in the room and came back to her seat
after that speech, feeling that she must just sit and hold her hands until
it was time to get supper, while these dreadful aunts picked her to
pieces, body, soul and spirit.

It was with great relief at last that she heard David's step and knew she
might leave the room and put the tea things upon the table.

CHAPTER XI

They got through the supper without any trouble, and the aunts went home
in the early twilight, each with her bonnet strings tied precisely, her
lace mitts drawn smoothly over her bony hands, and her little knitting bag
over her right arm. They walked decorously up the shaded, elm-domed
street, each mindful of her aristocratic instep, and trying to walk erect
as in the days when they were gazed upon with admiration, knowing that
still an air of former greatness hovered about them wherever they went.

They had brightened considerably at the supper table, under the genial
influence of David's presence. They came as near to worshiping David as
one can possibly come to worshiping a human being. David, desirous above
all things of blinding their keen, sure-to-say-"I-told-you-so" old eyes,
roused to be his former gay self with them, and pleased them so that they
did not notice how little lover-like reference he made to his bride, who
was decidedly in the background for the time, the aunts, perhaps
purposely, desiring to show her a wife's t