Margaret Maliphant

								

will sing it to me some day."
He said it with a certain air of patronage, which I found afterwards
came from his own excellent knowledge of music.
"Are you fond of singing?" said I, simply. I was too much of a country
girl to think of denying the charge. I was very fond of good music;
it was second nature to me, inherited, I suppose, from some forgotten
ancestor, and picking out tunes on the old piano was the only thing
that ever kept me willingly in-doors. Father delighted in my simple
singing of simple ditties, and so did the squire; I had grown used to
thinking it was a talent in me, my only one, and I was not ashamed of
owning up to it. "I'll sing it to you now if you like."
"That's very kind of you," said the young man, with a little smile.
And I sat down and sang the old tune through. I remember that, for the
first time in my life, I was really nervous. Captain Forrester stood by
the piano. He was very kind; I don't know that any one had ever said so
much to me about my voice before, but in spite of it all I knew for the
first time that I knew nothing. I felt angrily ashamed when Joyce, in
reply to pressing questions about her musical capacity, answered that
I had all the talent, and began telling of the village concerts that I
was wont to get up for the poor people, and of how there was one next
week, when he must go and hear me sing.
"Certainly I will," he answered, pleasantly, "and do anything I can to
help you. I have had some practice at that kind of thing."
"Why don't you say you are a regular professional at it, Frank?" put in
the squire, I fancied a little crossly. "He's always getting up village
concerts--a regular godsend at that kind of thing."
Frank laughed, and said he hoped we would employ him after such a
character, and then he asked what was our programme. Joyce told him.
I was going to sing, and Miss Hoad was going to sing--and she sang
beautifully, for she had learned in London--and then I would sing
with the blacksmith, and Miss Thorne would play with the grocer on
the cornet, and glees and comic songs would fill up the remainder.
The smile upon Captain Forrester's face clouded just a little at the
mention of Miss Thorne.
"Miss Thorne is not very proficient on the piano," said he. "Have you
already asked her to perform?"
"Do you know Miss Thorne?" asked Joyce, surprised.
"Yes," answered the captain; "she lived in the village where I was
brought up as a boy--not far from Manchester. Her father was a great
manufacturer, you know."
"Yes; we know that well enough." And I glanced uneasily at father; for
if he knew that this young fellow was a friend of the Thornes, I was
afraid it would set him against him. Luckily, he was busy talking to
the squire.
"She's a very nice girl," said Joyce, kindly, wanting to be agreeable,
although indeed we knew no more of Mary Thorne than shaking hands with
her coming out of church on a Sunday afternoon.
"Charming," acquiesced the captain; "but she's not a good musician, and