"No: I have had no opportunity," returned Florence honestly enough.
"Do you sing?"
"Yes. And I love music so very, very much! I do mean to learn by and by, if it is possible."
"I wish you would sing something for me,—a little school-song, or any thing you are familiar with."
Florence glanced up in amazement; and for a few moments was awkwardly silent.
"I should like to hear your voice. It is very pleasant in talking, and ought to be musical in singing."
Florence was a good deal flattered; and then she had the consciousness that she was one of the best singers in school. So she ran over the songs in her own mind, and selected "Natalie, the Maid of the Mill," which she was very familiar with.
She sang it beautifully. Florence was one of the children who are always good in an emergency. She was seldom "flustered," as Granny expressed it, and always seemed to know how to make the best of herself. And, as she saw the pleasure in Mrs. Osgood's face, her own heart beat with satisfaction.
"That is really charming. A little cultivation would make your voice very fine indeed. What a pity that you should be buried in this little town!"