Explore "The Song of the Lark" by Willa Cather on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
One Saturday, late in June, Thea arrived early for her lesson. As she perched herself upon the piano stool -- a wobbly, old-fashioned thing that worked on a creaky screw -- she gave Wunsch a side glance, smiling. "You must not be cross to me today. This is my birthday."
"So? " he pointed to the keyboard.