"What are some of your songs, child?" he asked kindly.
"I'll sing, 'Comin' thro' the rye,' if it please you," answered Janie, simply.
"Very well," was the reply, and he played a brilliant little prelude. The music inspired Janie, and never had she sung as she sang that day. At the end of the first verse, the man paused, with his hands resting upon the keys, and surveyed the tiny figure as it stood before him, the little chin lifted, and the sweet eyes looking into his so eagerly, as if asking for a word of approval.
"Come nearer," he said, "and sing another verse."
"Willingly," said Janie, and again the fresh voice rang out,
| "If a body meet a body |
| Comin' frae the town |
| If a body kiss a body |
| Need a body frown." |
At the last sweet note the man at the piano turned, and lifting her in his strong arms he exclaimed,
"Child, you have the voice of an angel! Mr. McLeod, I ask your pardon for doubting your statement that this little girl could sing."
"Oh, it's of no account whatever," answered Sandy, stoutly, "since ye're weel convinced."
The members of the club were beginning to arrive, and standing Janie upon a chair, the director stooped, and looking into the little face he asked.