But they found it was easier to start the singing than it was to end it, for they soon had all the household within hearing distance, and "just one more" was asked for from so many different quarters that their song-hunger was fully satisfied before they were allowed to stop. They seemed to sing like the birds, from "lightness of heart, and very joy of living." After a few moments' silence, a bird-song was whistled by the "mates in the tree," eliciting strong words of praise, as well as surprise, from the delighted listeners. "Oh, that's nothing to what we have to endure at home," said Elsie. "Those two are always hooting away like a pair of owls. It is a wonder their throats are not split before this. I almost hope that the piano at home will be mouldy when we get back." "We will soon knock the mould out of it, hey, Dexie?" Lancy laughingly replied, as he lifted his mate down from her perch. "Oh, how I should love to have a piano, and be able to play on it," said Maggie, with a long-drawn sigh. "Perhaps we will have one sometime." "Why, Maggie, how can you say such a thing? A deep sorrow comes before that joy; and how can you wish for it?" was the stern reproof of her sister. "Oh, dear! what have I said! I forgot that for the moment!" and there was such a tone of regret in her words that Dexie's eyes asked an explanation. "We can't have a piano while the grandmother is alive. She thinks that all music, except the bagpipes, perhaps, is positively wicked; so we try not to think about it. We spoke about it to father once, and he felt so badly that he could not please us and the grandmother too. Of course she comes first; but he has put the money in the bank to buy an instrument--sometime. I hate to think about it, though I long for it more than I can tell. It makes me feel as if I was such a wicked creature; for just think of wishing for a thing that can only be had over the grandmother's coffin! Oh, dear! I wish I had never heard the sound of music!" and to the surprise and dismay of the little group she burst into tears. "Oh, do forgive me! I am to blame for this, I fear," said Dexie, her face showing her distress. "I did not know--" "Don't think of such a thing, Miss Dexie," said Lizzie, putting her arm around her. "It was not your fault; Maggie has her cry over this same thing every few weeks, and feels the better for it, too, I believe. We have many pleasures that few girls on a farm ever think of, and we ought to be content. But I really do believe that if the grandmother could walk around the house, and should come across the books and other things that we girls have brought into it since she was confined to her room, she would die with the shock. She thinks that everything remains about the same as it was in her day, and we are careful not to disturb her opinion; for in this case a little deceit seems wise, or, at least, necessary."