tood the spinet.
There were also two corner buffets, as they were called. One of them had
drawers at the bottom, and the shelves above held various heirlooms, and
quaint old silver, with the punch bowl over two hundred years old,
bearing the Crown mark.

The other contained a good many books, for the descendants of the
cavaliers were not averse to something lighter than the "Book of
Martyrs." An old brown leather-covered Shakspere, and some of his
compeers, and Bacon, Lord Verulam, reposing peacefully on the shelf
underneath. Mr. Benjamin Franklin had given an impetus to knowledge and
ventured upon the writing of books himself.

Primrose wandered among them now and then, not understanding, and having
a greater fondness for the versifying part than the prose. But she did
pore over "Rasselas," and an odd collection of adventures in Eastern
lands, very like the "Arabian Nights."

But now she went straight at her spinet. She was thrilled through and
through with the sound of the notes, and often before she was aware her
little fingers would wander off in some melody, recalling how a bird
sang or how a streamlet rippled over the stones. Then she would stop in
affright and go carefully over her lesson.

Anabella really succeeded better than she did. There was no singing bird
in her brain that tempted her to stray. But sometimes the music master
was quite angry with her, and said she "might as well be a boy driving
nails or facing stone."

But now she went over and over and would not be seduced by "wonderful
melodies." It was quite dark when Mistress Janice called her to supper
in the tea room, with Patty. The two women had a great deal of sparring,
it would seem. At the farm there was never any bickering. Once in a
while Uncle James scolded some of the laborers. Yet it seemed curious to
Primrose that they should talk so sharply to each other and the next
minute join in gay laughter.

The very next day she had a visitor. Uncle James had been in once and
had a long talk with Madam Wetherill. After he had given her a somewhat
serious scrutiny and asked a few questions she was dismissed. But Aunt
Wetherill was out now and Andrew Henry asked for her.

"Promise me you won't run off with him," exclaimed Patty. "I must finish
this gown, as madam goes to Mrs. Chew's this afternoon, and all these
furbelows have to be sewed on. Folks can't be content with a plain gown
any more, but must have it laced and ruffled and bows stuck o