visit here. I will try not to hurt her; but there are
certain distinctions of class which I for one must insist upon
preserving. She is not a lady, she was not born a lady, and she never can
be a lady; therefore, my dear nieces, you are not to know her."

CHAPTER VIII.

MUSIC HATH CHARMS.

The girls were tired when they went to bed. The life of routine had
fatigued them; although, of course, it would soon cease to do so.
Notwithstanding, therefore, Miss Tredgold's startling announcement with
regard to Nancy King, they slept soundly; and the next morning when nine
o'clock struck they all appeared in the schoolroom, their persons neat,
their hair carefully brushed, and each pair of eyes beaming with
intelligence. Even Penelope looked her very best in a clean brown holland
frock, and she went quite creditably through her alphabet, and did not
squiggle her pot-hooks quite as much as she had done on the previous day.

Miss Tredgold was in an excellent humor. She praised the girls, told them
she was much pleased with their performances, and said further that, if
only they would meet her half-way by being attentive and intelligent and
earnest in their work, she on her part would do all in her power to make
lessons agreeable; she would teach them in a way which would be sure to
arouse their interest, and she would vary the work with play, and give
them as gay a time as the bright weather and their own happy hearts would
permit.

The girls felt quite cheerful; they even began to whisper one to another
that Aunt Sophia was developing more and more good points as days went
on.

On that afternoon a great excitement was in store, for a beautiful new
piano was to arrive from Broadwood's, and Aunt Sophia announced that she
meant to play on it for the benefit of the entire household that evening.

"For, my dears," said that good lady, "I have forgotten neither my
playing nor my singing. I will sing you old-fashioned songs to-night, and
I quite hope that I may lure your father from his retirement. There was a
time when he was musical--very musical."

"The dad musical!" cried Briar. "Aunt Sophia, what do you mean?"

"It is true, Rose. In the days long ago, when your mother and he and I
spent happy times together, he played his violin better than any other
amateur that I happen to know."

"There is an old violin in one of the attics," said Verena. "We have
never touched it. It is in a case all covered with dust."

"H