ou go home Monday--now mind what I say!"

An hour later, Miss Wetherby had a caller. It was the chorister of her
church choir. The man sat down gingerly on one of the slippery
haircloth chairs, and proceeded at once to state his business.

"I understand, Miss Wetherby, that you have an--er--young singer with
you."

Miss Wetherby choked, and stammered "Yes."

"He sings--er--very well, does n't he?"

The woman was still more visibly embarrassed.

"I--I don't know," she murmured; then in stronger tones, "The one that
looked like him did."

"Are there two?" he asked in stupid amazement.

Miss Wetherby laughed uneasily, then she sighed.

"Well, ter tell the truth, Mr. Wiggins, I s'pose there ain't; but
sometimes I think there must be. I'll send Robert down ter the
rehearsal to-night, and you can see what ye can do with him." And with
this Mr. Wiggins was forced to be content.

Bobby sang on Sunday. The little church was full to the doors. Bobby
was already famous in the village, and people had a lively curiosity as
to what this disquieting collector of bugs and snakes might offer in
the way of a sacred song. The "nighty" was, perforce, absent, much to
the sorrow of Ann; but the witchery of the glorious voice entered again
into the woman's soul, and, indeed, sent the entire congregation home
in an awed silence that was the height of admiring homage.

At breakfast time Monday morning, Bobby came downstairs with his brown
paper parcel under his arm. Ann glanced at his woeful face, then went
out into the kitchen and slammed the oven door sharply.

"Well, marm, I've had a bully time---sure's a gun," said the boy
wistfully, following her.

Miss Wetherby opened the oven door and shut it with a second bang; then
she straightened herself and crossed the room to the boy's side.

"Robert," she began with assumed sternness, trying to hide her depth of
feeling, "you ain't a-goin' home ter-day--now mind what I say! Take
them things upstairs. Quick--breakfast's all ready!"

A great light transfigured Bobby's face. He tossed his bundle into a
corner and fell upon Miss Wetherby with a bearlike hug.

"Gee-whiz! marm--but yer are a brick! An' I 'll run yer errands an'
split yer wood, an' I won't take no dogs an' cats in the parlor, an'
I'll do ev'rythin'--ev'rythin' ye want me to! Oh, golly--golly!--I'm
goin' ter stay--I'm goin' ter stay!" And Bobby danced out of the house
into the yard there to turn somersault