Elizabeth Eliza had a present of a piano, and she was to take lessons of the postmaster’s daughter.
They decided to have the piano set across the window in the parlor, and the carters brought it in, and went away.
After they had gone the family all came in to look at the piano; but they found the carters had placed it with its back turned towards the middle of the room, standing close against the window.
How could Elizabeth Eliza open it? How could she reach the keys to play upon it?
Solomon John proposed that they should open the window, which Agamemnon could do with his long arms. Then Elizabeth Eliza should go round upon the piazza, and open the piano. Then she could have her music-stool on the piazza, and play upon the piano there.
So they tried this; and they all thought it was a very pretty sight to see Elizabeth Eliza playing on the piano, while she sat on the piazza, with the honeysuckle vines behind her.
It was very pleasant, too, moonlight evenings. Mr. Peterkin liked to take a doze on his sofa in the room; but the rest of the family liked to sit on the piazza. So did Elizabeth Eliza, only she had to have her back to the moon.
All this did very well through the summer; but, when the fall came, Mr. Peterkin thought the air was too cold from the open window, and the family did not want to sit out on the piazza.
Elizabeth Eliza practised in the mornings with her cloak on; but she was obliged to give up her music in the evenings the family shivered so.
One day, when she was talking with the lady from Philadelphia, she spoke of this trouble.
The lady from Philadelphia looked surprised, and then said, “But why don’t you turn the piano round?”
One of the little boys pertly said, “It is a square piano.”
But Elizabeth Eliza went home directly, and, with the help of Agamemnon and Solomon John, turned the piano round.
“Why did we not think of that before?” said Mrs. Peterkin. “What shall we do when the lady from Philadelphia goes home again?”