“It do beat all,” Aunt Mean would exclaim, as from the pantry window she watched the girls go through the meadow lot, “what Gertrude finds so entertainin’ about that child. She hasn’t eyes for nobody but her, gaddin’ off every day, or ridin’ to town. I should most expect her beau would make some kind of a row over it.”
For they did “gad off” every pleasant day, sometimes to the grove to plan, but more often to the minister’s. There Chee would practise on Mr. Green’s violin, while Gertrude read or talked with Mrs. Green.
A few days before the concert, Mr. Farrar met them that he might hear, for the last time, Chee’s piece.
“Cousin Herman, if I play very well indeed, will you please say ‘yes’ to something?”
“That’s rather broad,” replied the gentleman; “suppose I can’t say ‘yes.’”
“Oh, but I know you can, just as well as not.”
“What is it about?”
Chee flushed a little, but answered, smilingly, “Clothes.”
“Ho, ho, that’s it! Well, I guess I can go it.”
Mr. Farrar considered himself an apt student of human nature. “It’s only natural the child should have a little pride. It’s a good thing Gertrude intends to see to a gown for her.” So said the young man to himself, little doubting the exact nature of Chee’s request.