The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1895-09-14

her disengaged hand while the other
fumbled helplessly in her pocket for the
red bordered handkerchief which she pres
emily whisked out.
'My dear child, you must not sob so,
indeed you must not indeed. l was wait
ing, hoping that l might be able to give
you some encouragement'-
"And-you can't?' she broke in despair
ingly, through her sobs.
"And I cannot,' he repeated solemnly.
'Did you ever hear trained singer
She shook her head mournfully.
''Listen, then, my child, while l sing
Home, Sweet Home.
He led to the seat he had just vacated
and seated himself on the stool. At the
first tones of the grand piano, Polly raised
her head and peeped furtively over her
handkerchief. When she began to sing
she wiped away her tears and listened
spellbound, her hands clasped tightly in
her lap. 1t thrilled her through and
through; the sweet tones, the pathos Of
the words: she had never understood them
before:
@ BE it ever so humble.
There's no place like home.''
Somehow the brilliant future she had
planned and dreamed over passed dim and
faint into the background, while in its
stead arose the little cottage on the farm,
that Htzekah had built with the hope of
winning her.
As for the master, he sang for little
Polly Ketcham as he had never sung
before a great audience in all his life.
Contact with the little country girl had
carried him back to his boyhood, far away
from the tumult and roar of the city.
He was in the green fields. The smell
of new mown hay came to him, the bleat-
ing of the sheep the twittering of the
birds, the chattering of the red squirrel in
the branches above, while over it all the
warm sun shed its golden light.
How cooling sound the swish of the oat
meal water, as he tipped the can to quench
his thirst! How the laughter and merry
voice of the children echoed in the deep
green woods!
Then the tingle of the dinner bell came
to him, when they all went troopipg home
to tile mother who stood at the door, shad-
ing her eyes with her hand and lovingly
watching them.
The last notes died away from under
the masters fingers he turned with sigh
TO Polly.
She realized now, as no words could
have made her realize it, the uselessness
of her attempt
st is beautiful, beautiful she said in
awed whisper, as though it were profane to
speak aloud in the room where such melody
had so lately rung "You have taught me
what it is to really sing. | shall never try
again"
"You are wrong to say that my child.
You have some good qualities, she looked
while you can give pleasure to yours. II
and those about you, sing with all your
heart and be thankful"
1t sounded like benediction, and she
arose to 90.
Stay he said 81 will give you
hook of my songs When you sing them
90. tl,a al 4
give all the fame and wealth you so
ardently desire for a life as pure and
blame!ess as yours has been"
He sat down and wrote few words on
the tlyleaf She took the book, thanked
him, and reached the door.
'After ALL" she said, turning back,
"there's Hezekiahu'
Eyes, there's Hezekiah,' he repeated.
"rhe love of a honest man awaits you, and
may it make you happy little wife,
She closed the door, the happy, cheerful
look again beaming on her face, and the
book held close to her worn brown jacket
1t was all that remained of her expecta-
tons.
And the master, worldly man that he
was had enough curiosity to open his
window and leaned far out over the
crowded street. He saw Polly join Heze-
kal, big and clumsy in his ill-litting suit
of blue; he SAW him put his arm around
her, nobody in the busy thronG noticed
lhen; and so they passed from view,
Polly's gray feather bobbing gayly now
over the bright hair and Hezekiahs love
reflected in her eyes. Waverley Magazine