"Oh, may my heart go diddle, diddle,
Like Uncle David's sacred fiddle."
There were still a great many people opposed to instrumental music and who could see no reverence in the organ's solemn sound.
Uncle Winthrop smiled over the story, and Betty said it would do to tell to Aunt Priscilla.
Betty begged that they might take Doris to Salem with them. Doris thought she should like to see the smart little Elizabeth, who was like a woman already, and her old playfellow James, as well as Ruth, who seemed to her hardly beyond babyhood. And there were all the weird old stories—she had read some of them in Cotton Mather's "Magnalia," and begged others from Miss Recompense, who did not quite know whether she believed them or not, but she said emphatically that people had been mistaken and there was no such thing as witches.
"A whole week!" said Uncle Winthrop. "Whatever shall I do without a little girl that length of time?"
"But you have Cary now," she returned archly.
Cary was a good deal occupied with young friends and college associates. Now and then he went over to Charlestown and stayed all night with one of his chums.
"I suppose I ought to learn how it will be without you when you want to go away in real earnest."
"I am never going away."
"Suppose Mrs. King should invite you to New York? She has some little girls."