"Yes, that is so," Mr. Amyatt replied. "We are decidedly primitive in our ways at Yelton, and have several women in our choir, notably Salome Petherick, the lame girl with whom your daughter has already become acquainted."
"Oh, yes. Margaret has been telling me about her. She sings in the choir, does she?"
"Yes. She has a beautiful voice, as clear and fresh as a bird's! I train the choir myself, for our organist comes from N—, a neighbouring town, several miles distant."
"By the way," said Mrs. Fowler with a smiling glance at Margaret, "my little girl is very desirous of learning to play the organ, and her governess would teach her, if you would allow her to practise on the organ in the church. Would there be any objection to that plan, Mr. Amyatt?"
"None whatever," was the prompt reply.
"Oh, thank you!" Margaret cried delightedly.
"You will have to employ Gerald to blow for you," Mr. Fowler remarked with a smile.
"I am sure he will not do that!" the little girl exclaimed. "He is far too disobliging."
"Margaret, how hard you are on your brother," Mrs. Fowler said reproachfully.
"Am I? I don't mean to be. Oh, here he is!"