isturbance of our own
peace.

Books accumulated in the best bedroom. John's expenses were small, and
there was very little temptation, or indeed opportunity, for spending.
At the time of his taking possession of his quarters in David's house he
had raised the question of his contribution to the household expenses,
but Mr. Harum had declined to discuss the matter at all and referred him
to Mrs. Bixbee, with whom he compromised on a weekly sum which appeared
to him absurdly small, but which she protested she was ashamed to
accept. After a while a small upright piano made its appearance, with
Aunt Polly's approval.

"Why, of course," she said. "You needn't to hev ast me. I'd like to hev
you anyway. I like music ever so much, an' so does David, though I guess
it would floor him to try an' raise a tune. I used to sing quite a
little when I was younger, an' I gen'ally help at church an' prayer
meetin' now. Why, cert'nly. Why not? When would you play if it wa'n't in
the evenin'? David sleeps over the wing. Do you hear him snore?"

"Hardly ever," replied John, smiling. "That is to say, not very
much--just enough sometimes to know that he is asleep."

"Wa'al," she said decidedly, "if he's fur enough off so 't you can't
hear _him_, I guess he won't hear _you_ much, an' he sure won't hear
you after he gits to sleep."

So the piano came, and was a great comfort and resource. Indeed, before
long it became the regular order of things for David and his sister to
spend an hour or so on Sunday evenings listening to his music and their
own as well--that is, the music of their choice--which latter was mostly
to be found in "Carmina Sacra" and "Moody and Sankey"; and Aunt Polly's
heart was glad indeed when she and John together made concord of sweet
sounds in some familiar hymn tune, to the great edification of Mr.
Harum, whose admiration was unbounded.

* * * * *

"Did I tell you," said David to Dick Larrabee, "what happened the last
time me an' John went ridin' together?"

"Not's I remember on," replied Dick.

"Wa'al, we've rode together quite a consid'able," said Mr. Harum, "but I
hadn't never said anythin' to him about takin' a turn at the lines. This
day we'd got a piece out into the country an' I had the brown colts. I
says to him, 'Ever do any drivin'?"

"'More or less,' he says.

"'Like to take the lines fer a spell?' I says.

"'Yes,' he says, lookin' kind o' pleased, 'if you ain't afra