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    Margaret looked at Roy. He had his hands over his ears and his shoulders hunched, as if someone was about to hit him. They sat there frozen like twin gargoyles until Mrs. Nightingale sang the last, horrible note. Then Roy took his hands away from his ears.
    â€œThat wasn’t so bad,” he said kindly.
    â€œYes, it was,” said Margaret. “It was terrible.”
    â€œWhen I was a girl, every time I opened up my mouth to sing, my brother yelled, ‘I’m telling!’” said Mrs. Nightingale.
    â€œThat was mean,” said Roy.
    â€œYeah, but you can’t really blame him,” said Margaret.
    â€œIt’s not easy, having a voice like mine and a name like Nightingale, let me tell you.” With her bright red lips and shiny red cheeks, she looked like a clown who can change from funny to sad in an instant. She was sad now. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was to sing on a stage in front of an audience, and hear them applaud,” she said wistfully.
    I wouldn’t count on the applauding part, Margaret was tempted to say. But she couldn’t. Not with the way Mrs. Nightingale looked.
    â€œYou could sing to Roy and me,” she said instead. “We wouldn’t mind, would we, Roy?”
    â€œNot that much.”
    â€œYou’re both very sweet.” Their sympathy seemed to cheer her up, because she was suddenly her smiling, jovial self again. “Thank you, but no. It’s karaoke or nothing.”
    â€œMaybe they can turn up the music really loud, to drown you out,” said Roy.
    â€œAnd we can come and clap, so people’ll think you sound good,” said Margaret. “We’ll ask Mrs. Tudley, too. And Gran. We’ll all clap.”
    â€œThen no one will be able to hear you,” finished Roy. “It’ll be great.”
    Mrs. Nightingale threw her head back and laughed so hard, everything on her jiggled. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or encouraged,” she said at last. “But I’ll do it.”
    â€œYippee!” shouted Roy, jumping to his feet.
    â€œOh, I’m so excited,” said Margaret. It felt so good to try to cheer somebody up and actually have it work for a change that she jumped up, too, and was hugging Mrs. Nightingale around the neck before she remembered they were strangers. She drew back, embarrassed.
    But Mrs. Nightingale had already turned to Roy.
    â€œCome on, one from you, too, Roy.” She enveloped him in an enthusiastic embrace, from which he emerged red-faced but pleased.
    â€œThere can be no formalities among the three of us if you’re going to help launch me on my new career,” said Mrs. Nightingale. “Now, you two had better run along. I have lots of work to do, and not much time.”
    â€œGran can have her party after the karaoke,” said Margaret as Mrs. Nightingale opened the door. “It’ll be perfect.”
    â€œI don’t know whether you’ll all be consoling me or congratulating me, but it will be nice to have the company,” called Mrs. Nightingale from her front stoop.
    Roy was about to lead the way through the gate when Margaret stopped. She couldn’t leave without asking one more question. “Wait a minute,” she said quickly. She turned and ran back to the bottom of the steps. “Mrs. Nightingale?” she said uncertainly.
    â€œYes, Margaret?”
    Margaret took a deep breath. “When your brother was mean to you, did it make you hate him for the rest of your life?” she said in a rush.
    â€œRonald? Why, I adore him. He’s one of my best friends. Why do you ask?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Mrs. Nightingale’s face creased in an understanding smile. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” she said kindly. “Siblings are resilient creatures. If you’ve done something you’re sorry for, I’m sure you’ll make it up to them.