“Of course,” she continued, “if he had stopped to think he would have known it never could have been my playing,—he knows me so well,—but he was anxious and didn’t realize. It seemed to him, he said, the music must be mine, he wanted so much I should take back my words.
“You did help, my Birdie, but you sha’n’t be left to sing alone any longer. Oh!” a new light dawning, “now I know why you love to think Opechee means a song-bird,” and she kissed the silent child with new fondness.
“We are going to ride in the morning, my Herman and I, and when we return perhaps we will have something to tell you. But oh, my precious cousin, you can never, never know all you have done for us.”
Chee only answered with a grave little shake of her head, “It wasn’t me, ’twas only Our Father, and”—she added tenderly—“Daddy Joe’s fiddle.”
CHAPTER X.
IN the morning, as he had promised, Mr. Farrar came to take Cousin Gertrude to drive.
“Chee! Chee! Nut-Brown Maiden, where are you?” Stepping to the stairway, Gertrude called, more earnestly, “Birdie, I want you.”
A shy little face peered over the railing, “Please, Cousin Gertrude, have I got to come down?”
“Why, Chee, wouldn’t you like to? There is some one here I want you to see.”
“Yes, I know, but I’d rather look at him through the parlor blinds.”