"Read this, will you please, Uncle? It came to-day."
He took Aunt Lucinda's letter, an odd expression growing around his mouth. But he opened it without speaking. Blue Bonnet sank into the hammock and watched him narrowly,—much as Grandmother had watched her as she read the same pages. She saw his lower teeth close on his mustache when he came to the significant part.
He lifted his eyes at last. "Well, Honey?"
"Well, Uncle?"
He sighed deeply. "Are you putting this up to me?"
She raised her shoulders in an expressive shrug. "I reckon you ought to have the deciding vote. I'm on the fence."
"Do you want to be a musician, Blue Bonnet?"
"I'd love to—if it weren't for all the practising!"
"Seems to me you play mighty well now."
"I'm very careless in my methods, Aunt Lucinda says."