Happy Helen, to have given so much pleasure! And now the table which had been so bountifully spread was beginning to look bare, for everybody had had a most excellent appetite, and had done full justice to the meal. The chairs were pushed back and old Sandy asked to have a bit of music. “The little lassies who sang the other night, canna they sing?” said he, looking kindly at Prue and Katie, who were playing “bean porridge hot” together.
“Ain’t any pi-ano here,” said Katie.
“Never mind that,” said Helen; “I think if you and Prue sing the little songs which you sang the other evening so sweetly, Sandy will, in return, make some music for you.”
“That I will,” responded the old man, heartily; “but there’s naught so blithe as the sound of a bairnie’s voice.”
So wee Katie was mounted upon a chair, in lieu of a platform, and she sang the little solo, “Once there was a little mouse,” giving all the verses, and even remembering to make a little bow as Helen had taught her. Indeed, she bowed so vigorously that she barely escaped losing her balance. Then she hopped down, and little Prue sprang up in her place, singing, “Sometimes I am a daisy bloom,” just as she had sung it at Mrs. Gray’s on the evening of the tableaux. When she had finished the last lines,
“And next to those I love the best
I love each one of you,”
she kissed her little finger tips to her admiring audience, as Helen had taught her to do.
Every one applauded, and old Sandy called the children to him, saying, “I’ll make the music for ye now, I wad na hae the heart to refuse,” and rising hastily he left the room. Every one was surprised at this abrupt movement and wondered if the childish voice had moved him too deeply, awakening the memories of his Scottish home and friends.
Silent he had ever been in regard to home and kindred, answering questions in a manner which invited no further queries; but since Helen’s stay in the village he had warmed wonderfully toward his neighbors, and seemed quite unlike the silent old man whom they had known.
But while they were wondering about his absence, Sandy reappeared. What a change! Arrayed in all the bravery of a Scottish chieftain, old Sandy stood before them, a picture indeed.