"But, Arthur," said Pert, almost pleadingly, "I have told you how I feel about it. I don't love you, and how can I marry a man I do n't love? I am fonder of you, much fonder, than of any other man I know, and I can't begin to tell you how bad I should feel to lose your friendship, but—"
She paused as a sound of voices reached them, and in a moment, to her great relief, Sadie and Checkers, with the banjo, came round the house and joined them.
One sweep of the strings, to be sure it was in tune, and Checkers tendered Pert the instrument.
"No, I shan't play; we want to hear you," she laughingly exclaimed, putting her hands behind her. "I am only a novice, and you know the old proverb, 'The poor ye have always with ye.'"
Without more ado Checkers sat down and played a couple of lively airs.
"Now, a song," exclaimed Pert; "I am sure that you sing."
"How did you guess it?" asked Checkers, smiling. "Well, what shall it be, a 'serio-chronic,' or a song about some 'old oaken' thing?"
"Oh, something funny, Mr. Campbell," said Sadie.
Checkers sang a song of an Irish dance. This he followed with one of the popular ballads of the day, full of melody.
He had a clear, high voice, with a touch of that boyish sweetness in it, which made Emmet so famous. A sweetness to which the open air and the sharpness of the banjo added a charm.