"That accounts for Webb's exuberant growth and spirit, and the ethereal beauty of Len's mature blossoming," remarked Burt.
"You are a plant that never had enough pruning," retorted his portly eldest brother.
"I shall be glad to help you, if you will teach me how," Amy said to Mrs.
Clifford.
"In the pruning department?" asked Burt, with assumed dismay.
"Possibly," was the reply, with an arch little look which delighted the young fellow.
"Come, Maggie," said Mrs. Clifford, "sing a Christmas carol before we separate. It will be a pleasant way of bringing our happy evening to a close."
Mrs. Leonard went to the piano. "Amy," she asked, "can't you help me?"
"I'll do my best, if you will choose something I know."
A selection was soon made, and Amy modestly blended a clear, sweet voice with the air that Mrs. Leonard sang, and as the sympathetic tones of the young girl swelled the rich volume of song the others exchanged looks of unaffected pleasure.
"Oh, Amy, I am so glad you can sing!" cried Mrs. Clifford, "for we have always made so much of music in our home."