"Then make the door shut," Aunt Maria directed as they went to the sitting-room. "I want to mark my rug yet this evening and your noise bothers me." CHAPTER XI "THE BRIGHT LEXICON OF YOUTH" "WHAT shall I sing?" Phœbe asked as her father sank into the big rocker and she took her place at the low organ. "Ach, anything," he replied. She smiled, turned the pages of an old music book, and began to sing, "Annie Laurie." Her father nodded approval and smiled when she followed that with several other old-time favorites. Then she hesitated a moment, a low melody came from the organ, and the words of the beautiful lullaby fell from her lips: "Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea; Low, low,--breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea; Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon and blow, Blow him again to me, While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps." Phœbe sang the lullaby as gently as if a tiny head were nestled against her bosom. She had within her, as has every normal, unspoiled woman, the loving impulses and yearning tenderness of motherhood. Her womanhood's star of hope shone brightly, though from a great distance; she devoutly hoped for the fulfillment of her destiny, but always dreamed of it coming in some time far removed from the present. Wifehood and motherhood--that was her goal, but long years of other joys and other achievements stretched between. Yet she felt an incomparable joy as she sang the lullaby. She sang it easily and sweetly and uttered each word with the freedom of one to whom music is second nature.