And I cried just as hard as I'd been singing a minute before.

I was on the floor with my head in my arms on the piano-stool when Father's voice came to me from the doorway.
"Mary, Mary, what in the world does this mean ?" I jumped up and stood "at attention," the way you have to, of course, when fathers speak to you.

I couldn't help showing I had been crying--he had seen it.

But I tried very hard to stop now.

My first thought, after my startled realization that he was there, was to wonder how long he had been there--how much of all that awful singing and banging he had heard.
"Yes, sir." I tried not to have my voice shake as I said it; but I couldn't quite help that.
"What is the meaning of this, Mary?
Why are you crying ?" I shook my head.