Visiting Home

Violin

Sybbie sulked and stomped around the house for the next few days. She refused to speak to virtually anyone, for the exception of her Aunt Mary, Anna and cousins. She spent as much time as she could away from her family; and took her misery with her downstairs. The downstairs staff gave her sympathetic smiles and patted her kindly on the shoulder. Music was her getaway; so most of the time she was at the piano. Tom felt awful for what he said to her the day he announced it. He tried to speak to her and bribe her back to happiness with little gifts, but she only pulled farther away. While Sybbie was solemnly speaking to Mary, he
approached her with a large case. She looked at him.

"Play." He whispered, and without another word, he left the room.

Mary shifted back slightly as she unclasped the hooks. A lovely, dark brown violin laid in the soft red velvet. Sybbie gasped. Her violin!

"How did you get it from Boston?" She asked the silence.

Mary looked at her, puzzled.

"Surely it can't be your original one, that's impossible..." She trailed off.

"But it is! Look, it's got my initials on the scroll!" She was excited.

She happily curved her fingers around the indented bow, and raised the violin to her chin. She took in its homey smell of firewood and damp ground. It smelt like her home in Boston. Robert stood in the corner with his cup of tea, observing his eldest grandchild. She moved the bow up and down the strings, elegant music escaping the instrument. Her upper body moved back and forth as she was indulged by the song.

Mary watched with a sad smile on her face.

If Tom took Sybbie back to Boston, she'd most likely never see her again.