'What a finger!' says Mrs. Ponto; and indeed it WAS a finger, as knotted
as a turkey's drumstick, and splaying all over the piano. When she had
banged out the tune slowly, she began a different manner of 'Gettin' up
Stairs,' and did so with a fury and swiftness quite incredible. She spun
up stairs; she whirled up stairs: she galloped up stairs; she rattled up
stairs; and then having got the tune to the top landing, as it were, she
hurled it down again shrieking to the bottom floor, where it sank in a
crash as if exhausted by the breathless rapidity of the descent. Then
Miss Wirt played the 'Gettin' up Stairs' with the most pathetic and
ravishing solemnity: plaintive moans and sobs issued from the keys--you
wept and trembled as you were gettin' up stairs. Miss Wirt's hands
seemed to faint and wail and die in variations: again, and she went up
with a savage clang and rush of trumpets, as if Miss Wirt was storming a
breach; and although I knew nothing of music, as I sat and listened
with my mouth open to this wonderful display, my CAFFY grew cold, and I
wondered the windows did not crack and the chandelier start out of the
beam at the sound of this earthquake of a piece of music.
'Glorious creature! Isn't she?' said Mrs. Ponto. 'Squirtz's favourite
pupil--inestimable to have such a creature. Lady Carabas would give her
eyes for her! A prodigy of accomplishments! Thank you, Miss Wirt'--and
the young ladies gave a heave and a gasp of admiration--a deep-breathing
gushing sound, such as you hear at church when the sermon comes to a
full stop.
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