“I’ve thought it over a great deal,” he went on; “but I don’t know what to do exactly.”
To his chagrin and surprise, Esther got up and, going back to the harmonium, began to play loud, triumphant hymns. He could not guess her mood. He was afraid he had offended her; and with that a shade of the old magnificence returned.
“Esther darling, you’re not angry, are you?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she replied cheerfully; “but I want to think. Let’s sing.”
She had a book of “College Songs,” ugly and tasteless, like everything else in her life, and they sang them, one after the other, until bedtime. In the next room the mother and father listened, proud and pleased.
“Hark to sis!” said old Van Brink. “Sings and plays pretty good, hey, mother?”
“My, yes! It’s real sweet!”
“I’ll bet you that young man don’t see many girls like sis, city or country, hey, mother? He’s no call to turn up his nose at our gal, hey?”
“He don’t,” she answered thoughtfully.
The next morning, at breakfast, as soon as they were alone for a minute, Esther whispered: