Philip assured her he was not annoyed.

Jane observed him listening, and by degrees she distinguished a maundering of the Italian song she had one day sung to Patrick in his brother's presence.
'I remember your singing that the week before I went to India,' said Philip, and her scarlet blush flooded her face.
'Can you endure the noise ?' she asked him.
'Con would say it shrieks "murder." But I used to like it once.' Mrs.Lappett came answering to the call.

Her children were seen up the garden setting to one another with squared aprons, responsive to a livelier measure.
'Bless me, miss, we think it so cheerful!' cried Mrs.Lappett, and glanced at her young ones harmonious and out of mischief.
'Very well,' said Jane, always considerate for children.

She had forgotten the racked Mrs.Adister.
Now the hymn of Puritanical gloom-the peacemaker with Providence performing devotional exercises in black bile.

The leaps of the children were dashed.