The new-comers were strangers, of course. The house in which they were
setting up their furniture was too little arranged "to admit of calls;"
and, as the family seemed very little disposed to court society, all
prospects of immediately solving the mystery that hung about the piano
seemed hopeless. In the meantime, public opinion was "rife."
The depository of this strange thing was looked upon by the passers-by
with indefinable awe; and, as noises unfamiliar sometimes reached the
street, it was presumed that the piano made them, and the excitement
rose higher than ever. In the midst of it, one or two old ladies,
presuming upon their age and respectability, called upon the strangers
and inquired after their health, and offered their services and
friendship; meantime, everything in the house was eyed with great
intensity, but, seeing nothing strange, a hint was given about the
piano. One of the new family observed, carelessly, "that it had been
much injured by bringing out, that the damp had affected its tones, and
that one of its legs was so injured that it would not stand up, and for
the present it would not ornament the parlor."
Here was an explanation indeed: injured in bringing out; damp affecting
its tones; leg broken. "Poor thing!" ejaculated the old ladies, with
real sympathy, as they proceeded homeward; "traveling has evidently
fatigued it; the Mass-is-sip fogs has given it a cold, poor thing!" and
they wished to see it with increased curiosity.
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