"Ugh!" exclaimed Adah, shudderingly. "Richard--" I put my finger on my lips. "Miss Adah," I interrupted, "I'd rather be struck by lightning than hear any more about that night." "Yes," said Miss Warren desperately, "I wish I could forget that night forever." "I never wish to forget the expression on your face, Miss Warren, when we knew Zillah was alive. If that didn't please God, nothing in this world ever did." "Oh, hush!" she cried. "Emily, I think you cannot have told me all that happened." "I can't think of it any more," she said; and her face was full of trouble. "I certainly don't know, and have never thought how I looked." "Mr. Morton seems to have been cool enough to have been very observant," said the banker keenly. "I was wet enough to be cool, sir. Miss Warren said I was not fit to be seen, and the doctor bundled me out of the room, fearing I would frighten Zillah into hysterics. Hey, Zillah! what do you think of that?" "I think the doctor was silly. I wouldn't be afraid of thee any more than of Emily." "Please let us talk and think of something else," Miss Warren pleaded. "I don't want to forget what I owe to Richard," said Reuben a little indignantly. I trod on his foot under the table. "Thee needn't try to stop me, Richard Morton," continued the boy passionately. "I couldn't have got mother out alone, and I'd never left her. Where would we be, Emily Warren, if it hadn't been for Richard?" "In heaven," I said, laughing, for I was determined to prevent a scene. "Well, I hope so," Reuben muttered; "but I don't mind being in mother's dining-room." Even Mrs. Yocomb's gravity gave way at this speech. As we rose from the table, Zillah asked innocently: "Emily, is thee crying or laughing?" "I hardly know myself," she faltered, and went hastily to her room; but she soon came down again, looking very resolute. "Emily," said Mr. Yocomb, "since thee and mother doesn't think music's wicked, I have a wonderful desire to hear thee sing again, 'Tell me the Old, Old Story,' as thee did on the night of the storm." In spite of her brave eyes and braver will, her lip trembled. I was cruel enough to add, "And I would be glad to listen to the Twelfth Nocturne once more." For some reason she gave me a swift glance full of reproach. "I will listen to anything," I said quickly. Mr. Hearn looked a little like a man who feared that there might be subterranean fires beneath his feet. "I will not promise more than to be chorister to-night," she said, sitting down to the piano with her back toward us. "Let us have familiar hymns that all can sing. Miss Adah has a sweet voice, and Mr. Morton, no doubt, is hiding his talent in a napkin. There's a book for you, sir. I'm sorry it doesn't contain the music." "It doesn't matter," I said; "I'm equally familiar with Choctaw." "Adela and Zillah, you come and stand by me. Your little voices are like the birds'."