nt," said Rose, beaming with heartfelt satisfaction
while Archie looked steadfastly at his program, trying to keep his face
in order, and the rest of the family assumed a triumphant air, as if
they had never doubted from the first.

"Very well, indeed," said the stout man with an approving nod. "Quite
promising for a beginner. Shouldn't wonder if in time they made a second
Cary or Kellogg of her."

"Now you'll forgive him, won't you?" murmured Charlie in his cousin's
ear.

"Yes, and I'd like to pat him on the head. But take warning and never
judge by first appearances again," whispered Rose, at peace now with all
mankind.

Phebe's last song was another ballad; she meant to devote her talent to
that much neglected but always attractive branch of her art. It was
a great surprise, therefore, to all but one person in the hall when,
instead of singing "Auld Robin Grey," she placed herself at the piano,
and, with a smiling glance over her shoulder at the children, broke out
in the old bird song which first won Rose. But the chirping, twittering,
and cooing were now the burden to three verses of a charming little
song, full of springtime and the awakening life that makes it lovely. A
rippling accompaniment flowed through it all, and a burst of delighted
laughter from the children filled up the first pause with a fitting
answer to the voices that seemed calling to them from the vernal woods.

It was very beautiful, and novelty lent its charm to the surprise, for
art and nature worked a pretty miracle and the clever imitation, first
heard from a kitchen hearth, now became the favorite in a crowded
concert room. Phebe was quite herself again; color in the cheeks now;
eyes that wandered smiling to and fro; and lips that sang as gaily and
far more sweetly than when she kept time to her blithe music with a
scrubbing brush.

This song was evidently intended for the children, and they appreciated
the kindly thought, for as Phebe went back among them, they clapped
ecstatically, flapped their pinafores, and some caught her by the skirts
with audible requests to "Do it again, please; do it again."

But Phebe shook her head and vanished, for it was getting late for such
small people, several of whom "lay sweetly slumbering there" till roused
by the clamor round them. The elders, however, were not to be denied and
applauded persistently, especially Aunt Plenty, who seized Uncle Mac's
cane and pounded with it as vigorously as "Mrs.