"Now, for instance.

You know Cyril always has been in the habit of venting his moods on the piano (just as I do, only more so) by playing exactly as he feels.

Well, as near as I can gather, he was at his usual trick the next day after the twins arrived; and you can imagine about what sort of music it would be, after what he had been through the preceding forty-eight hours.
"Of course I don't know exactly what happened, but Julia--Marie's second maid, you know--tells the story.

She's been with them long enough to know something of the way the whole household always turns on the pivot of the master's whims; so she fully appreciated the situation.

She says she heard him begin to play, and that she never heard such queer, creepy, shivery music in her life; but that he hadn't been playing five minutes before one of the nurses came into the living-room where Julia was dusting, and told her to tell whoever was playing to stop that dreadful noise, as they wanted to take the twins in there for their nap.
"'But I didn't do it, ma'am,' Julia says.