“But here we are, off pleasuring, on as pretty a day as God ever dropped down on his footstool.” Ma agreed with him, and began to “tune up,” as pa put it, humming under her breath. She had her old song book in her hand—the book with the square notes, such as the mountain people always used at their “singings.” She explained to Azalea that the shape of the notes indicated their names. For example, no matter what key “do” might be in, it could be told for “do” by its shape. “Sol” would have another shape; “re” yet another. In this manner no one need be confused by four or even six sharps. “And it’s a custom with us, Azalea,” she explained, “to sing the tune through by note first. After we’ve done that, and everybody has got the tune fixed in his head, so to speak, we go through and sing the words.” “You’ll have to tell Hi about the singing,” said Azalea. “It seems mighty queer to me how you-all don’t know about singings,” ma replied. “It ain’t nothing but all the folks getting together and singing. They do it once a year you know—come from all over the countryside. There now, look yonder! See them wagons coming from all parts? They’re all off for Rutherford Plain where the old Friendly Meeting House is. That was built before the war, all of great oak beams and boards, and it don’t belong to no one denomination, but folks of whatever belief meet there and give praise and worship.” “Ain’t it nice?” sighed Azalea contentedly. It was very sweet to her to be riding along there, the daughter of people who were so much thought of as the McBirneys—she who had been a wanderer, and often a hungry, neglected child, in clothes she was ashamed of, and the companion of people she had been unable to respect. Everyone had a pleasant word for Ma and Pa McBirney, and almost everyone seemed to know about her and to ask if she was their new daughter. They said they were pleased to meet her, and when they knew about Hi—and the McBirneys were quick to tell—they said they were pleased to meet him too, and that they’d like mighty well to do him a good turn if the chance offered. There was so much talking of this kind to do, that after all, Hi did not get his description of the singing, and it was only when he had reached the grove around Friendly Church that he began to understand what a happy occasion it really was. Wagons by the twenties stood about, their horses unhitched and tied beneath the trees. Men, women and children were gathered in groups, talking and laughing. The heavy barred doors of the old church were swung wide, and the ivy and crimson creeper peeped in at its open windows. The boys helped pa unhitch and were ready when the deep-toned bell sounded, to go with the others into the church.