Ah, how sweet and clear sounded her voice as, looking across at old Sandy McLeod, she sang “The Bluebells of Scotland.”
The proverbial pin could have been heard had it been dropped. As the last notes ceased, old Sandy arose, and, stoutly thumping on the floor with his cane, shouted, “Well, noo, that’s bonny, say I, Sandy McLeod.”
“That’s so,” said little Reuben Jenks, under his breath, for he sat quite near old Sandy and was a bit afraid of him. The old Scotchman owned a large farm on the outskirts of the town and was reported to have a deal of money, which most people said he never spent. He lived alone and was said to be rather crusty.
One day, when out for a walk, Helen, in passing his door, saw old Sandy sitting on his door-stone, trying to thread a needle. Helen paused for a moment, saying kindly, “Please let me thread it for you.”
The old man scowled and hesitated, then surrendered the needle. Helen threaded it; then, after a few pleasant words, resumed her walk.
The old fellow mumbled something, possibly thanks, and ever after that morning pulled off his cap to Helen when he met her.
Mrs. Gray laughed when Helen said she intended to invite him to the entertainment, saying that he would never come. He came, however, very promptly, and it was for him she sang the old Scotch ballad.
“Now,” said Helen, “let us all sing, ‘Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot,’” and with a will they sang it, old Sandy joining in the chorus.
It was now quite late, but good old Parson Spooner rose and proposed three cheers for the young lady who had planned such a beautiful entertainment. They were given heartily, and then every one crowded around Helen to clasp her hand and thank her again, and of all the merry party no one was happier than she.
Turning to Mrs. Gray, after the last guest had departed, Helen said, “I have often helped to entertain, with some success, but in the city one does not always feel the thanks so enthusiastically expressed to be sincere, but who could doubt the genuineness of the kind words spoken to-night?”