over the hull flume with Jud a little while before he
lit out for the East, p'intin' things out ter him that he wanted did
when he got back. I was down here flume-herdin' at Five when him an' Jud
come along in a dude-lookin' flume-boat, rigged out in great style. I
stopped 'em back there a ways with my picaroon, when they sung out, an'
they walked down here on the side planks. Jest as they got near the camp
the soop'rintendent he stopped like he'd struck a rotten plank an'
stared at the house.

"'Who's that singin'?' says he.

"'Miss. Hemenway,' says Jud, proud-like.

"'She's got an awful sweet voice,' says the ol' man. 'It oughter be
trained. She ought to go to a hot-house'--or something like that.
'Conservatory?' Yes, that's it.

"'She's mighty anxious to l'arn,' says Jud. 'She wants a pianner awful
bad.'

"'Does she?' says the soop'rintendent. 'She oughter have one.'

"When he come along to the house he says to Jess, who stuck her head
outer the door an' looked kinder skeer'd-like, says he, 'I wish yeh'd
sing a few songs fer me.'

"Wal, yeh could see wal enough that Jess's knees was a-knockin'
together, but she tunes up her mandy-linn, scratches at the strings with
a little chip, an' gits started all right on 'Rock o' Ages,' an' gits to
goin' along kinder quavery-like fer a while, an' then she busts right
inter, 'He'r dem Bells,' so strong an' high an' wild that it takes the
ol' man right out o' his boots.

"He claps his hands an' yells, 'Hooray! Give us another!'

"Then she saws along on, 'Gather at the River,' an' chops inter, 'All
Coons Looks Alike ter Me,' in a way to stop the mill.

"Her paw stan's aroun' all the while, tickled t' death an' smilin' all
over.

"'Wal,' says the soop'rintendent, when Jess she stops ter git her wind,
'yer all right, Miss. Hemenway. Yer as full o' music as a wind-harp in a
tornado.' Then he says to her paw on the Q. T., 'If yeh was ter let that
gal go ter the city an' l'arn some o' them high-toned op'ry songs, yeh
wouldn't have to be picaroonin' lumber strings much longer.'

"'Yes,' says Hemenway, bloated up like a gobbler an' lookin' at Jess
where she stan's with her face red an' still a-puffin' for breath; 'an'
she thinks she could l'arn right here if she only had a pianner.'

"'She'd oughter have one,' says Mr. Sneath. 'I wish----' he says, an'
then he breaks off like a busted log-chain. 'But we couldn't git it down
here.'

'"What's that?' asts Hemenway.

"'We