The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1878-04-13

look at you at all
1t was at this juncture of the converse
ton that Mr.. Paret spoke. 90 cat may
look at king" said Mr.. Paret. And these
few words of his had the effect of bomb
bursting in the enemy's camp. Mrs Paret
started and stared at her husband, Pere-
grimes fork paused in mid air, and even
Gracie's eyes grew round in wonder. His
opinion had not been asked. The little
group, in fact, believed him utterly obliv-
iouS and Indifferent to the Perkins cues
ton, and this singular and trite remark
threw CONSERVATION III their midst.
But Mrs. Paret rallied sufficiently to
stammer out, "A king is not supposed to
look at a cat"
And Mr.. Paret, who had by this time
finished his meal and reached the door of
the dining room, turned upon the threshold
and said, " That depends upon the taste
and policy of the king and the character of
the cat" With this Parthian arrow he
went out and shut the door,
The next day Miss Grace went into the
parlor to practice the opening piece for the
following Sunday. Miss Grace was the
soprano in the aristocratc church on the
muddy corner below, and it was generally
conceded that for sweetness and compass
the voice of Miss Paret had no peer in
Riverview. Mr.. Perkins himself in pass
ing the church the day before had paused.
with the board on his shoulder, and listen
tened, with his heart in his mouth. to the
clear, sweet. ringing notes that fell upon
the balmy air of that delicious morning.
And very thankful he was that he had
waited long enough to be of service to her
in any way. "No thanks to me-" he had
said, while sacrificing his board; 81 should
have been half a mile ahead if your voice
hadn't rooted me to the spot"
" thought | could get my part better if
tried it in the church." said Grace; .'but
1t was so big and gloomy there, and it's so
hard to practice alone; the tenor ought to
be there at least"
These words of hers-as, indeed, all her
words-remained in the memory of Mr..
Perkins; and on the following morning,
while he was experimenting the paperine
of the reception room on the other side of
the ball, and listening to Miss Parets voice
from the parlor, he became more and more
convinced that she really did need the as
sista nee of the tenor: the rest could be got
along without, but the tenor was indispen-
sable. He'd been humming to himself all
the time, but of what service was this to
Miss Paret? On the spur of the moment
he walked across the hall and through the
open door into the parlor He saw that
her color rose, and that she turned upon
the piano stool and quickly confronted
him, and for moment he wished that he
had never learned to sing. If this impulse
of his should cost this loveliest and best of
Gods creatures the least disappointment or
even surprise, his epiglottis might as well
be the most ordinary in the world-he
would never sing again. But her voice
held no Indignation in it. nor her face.
which was the purest, the gentlest, the
most winning, of faces.
"Shall | call mammal she said.
son, no." he replied; "the papering is
going on nicely; but l thought, if you'd
allow me, I'd just supply the tenor for you.
| can see that the absence of it is a great
impeachment. If you wouldn't mind, Miss
Paret, | think you could make out with nv
voice for the time"
And he began without further preamble
to sing the solo. Miss Paret followed him
with the piano accompaniment, her musical
soul in her ears. Oh, how vastly, immeas-
urably superior was his voice to the tenor
she had been accustomed TOTO any tenor,
any voice. Presently he ceased, and trem-
blingly, but sweetly she took up the refrain
Then he joined in with her, and for about
ten minutes or so the paper hangers on the
other side of the corridor, the maid servant
in the kitchen, and the man servant in the
hall, listened, open mouthed, to these
seraphic strains that seemed straight from
paradise. Unfortunately they scared up
into the sitting room above, where Mrs.
Paret was making up her domestic &C
counts, and So engrossed was she that she
did not at first realize that mans voice
was mingling with that of her daughter.
When she did, she made up her mind it
was Mr.. Barnes, the church tenor. But
Mrs. Paret was musical critic, and very
soon concluded those full rich notes did not
belong to Mr.. Barnes. Besides, he had
gone to the city; she saw him go to the
train half an hour before. Who could it
be: The voice was certainly strange
wonderfully fine, but strange. Mrs.
Paret dropped her book, put her pencil be-
hind her ear, and went down into the par
lor. Imagine her horror, her dismay, her
indignation, to find that wonderfully fine
but strange voice in the possession of Mr..
Perkins! And to find her daughter, the
acknowledged queen of Riverside society,
deigning to mingle her voice with his, and
accompany him while he sang.
The poor girl hung her head when she
saw her mamma. She knew there wasn't
bit of harm in the situation; it was only
the impulsive kindness of Mr.. Perkins,
and the yearning for harmony which besets
a musical soul. If she could only tell her
mamma--explain to her Mr.. Perkins
motive and her own! But she could see
that Mrs. Paret was growing redder and
redder; that her usually rubicund com
plexlon was deepening to a rich mahogany;
that she was swelling up, so to speak, with
rage and indignation.
MIR. Perkins could see this for himself
and FASTENED to apologize.
sit was merely musical intrusion,
madam" he said. 81 saw that your
daughter needed tenor, and without
pausing to think, offered it to her,
I'm sure Mr.. Perkins is always very
kind" faltered Grace.
Kind" echoed the exasperated matron.
" I'm about sick of Mr.. Perkins and his
kindness. He'd oblige me by taking it
and himself out of the house, and never
entering its doors again in any capacity or
under aDy ST