"I ought to have a new piano," said Miss Ri, "and now you have come, it will be an excuse to get one. I'll see what I can do next time I go to town. I remember that you have a nice voice." "Nothing to boast of." "Not very powerful, perhaps, but sweet and true. I wish you'd sing for me, Verlinda, if you are not too tired." "I will, if you will first play for me some of those things I used to love when I was a child. You would play till I grew drowsy, and then you would carry me off to bed." "Oh, my dear, I don't play nowadays, and on that old tinkling piano." "But it is just because it is the old piano that I want the old tunes." "Then pick out what you like, and I will try." Linda turned over a pile of music to find such obsolete titles as "Twilight Dews," "Departed Days," "Showers of Pearl," and the like. She selected one and set it on the rack. "Here is one I used to like the best," she said. "It suggested all sorts of things to my childish mind; deep woods, fairy calls, growling giants; I don't know what all." "'Departed Days.' Very fitly named, isn't it? for it is at least fifteen years ago, and it was an old thing then. Well, I will try; but you mustn't criticise when I stumble." She sat down to the piano, a stout, fresh-colored, grey-haired woman with a large mouth, whose sweet expression betokened the kindly nature better than did the humorous twinkling eyes. She played with little style, but sympathetically, though the thin tinkling notes might have jarred upon the ears of one who had no tender associations with the commonplace melody. To Linda it was a voice from out of her long-ago, and she listened with a wistful smile till suddenly the door opened and the music ended with a false chord. Miss Ri shut the piano with a bang, and turned to greet the young man who entered. CHAPTER V THE ALARM "Have I interrupted a musicale?" asked Berkley jauntily. "You are just in time to hear Verlinda sing," responded Miss Ri with ready tact and in order to cover her own confusion. "Ah, that's good," cried he, though "Oh, Miss Ri," came in protest from Linda. "Didn't you promise to sing for me, if I played for you?" queried Miss Ri. "Yes,--but--only for you." "Now, Miss Linda," Berkley expostulated, "haven't I known you as long as Miss Ri has?" "Not quite," Linda answered. "But does the matter of a few months or even years, when you were yet in a state of infantile bewilderment, make any difference?" "It makes all the difference," Linda was positive. "Oh, come, come," spoke up Miss Ri, "that is all nonsense. You don't make any bones of singing in the church choir, Verlinda." "Oh, but then I have the support of other voices." "Well, you can have the support of Berk's voice; I am sure it is big enough." "Oh, but I don't sing anything but college songs," the young man declared. "Such a very modest pair," laughed Miss Ri.