184“I’m glad Perdita and Peter are such a biddable sort,” said Polly. “I don’t know what we’d do with two little imps around. They are quite good, almost always. Perdita is mischievous, but Peter keeps her straight. He seems to feel the whole burden of her. If she starts to do anything naughty, he says: ‘Perdita, you mustn’t,’ and Perdita doesn’t.”
“It’s lucky Perdita hasn’t Elsmere for a brother,” suggested Dot. “There’d be no living in Winsted if she had, for even Peter can’t keep a wicked look out of her eye at times.”
“Room for a tired man in your party, children?” Dr. Harlow joined the group. Max vacated the long chair he was occupying, and every one welcomed the doctor with a word or smile. They all loved him, and nothing pleased them better than to have him spend an hour with them. To-day, he was plainly tired, and while Catherine prepared tea for him, Frieda whispered to Hannah.
“I wonder if he would,” said Hannah. “Winifred, will you sing, if I bring out my fiddle?”
“Frieda was telling a story and the others were listening attentively.”–Page 184.
185Winifred never refused to sing, and Hannah slipped into the house, tuned her dear Geige and brought it out. Then she played very softly, while Winifred’s sweet voice sang one quiet song after another. Dr. Harlow’s tired face relaxed and, leaning back in the chair, he presently dropped off to sleep. The young people were very still, and Winifred smiled softly as she sang. Dr. Helen, coming out from the office after an interview with a wearying patient, stood in her turn watching. The blues and pinks and greens of the girls’ frocks, the boys’ white flannels and the great tree spreading above them, made a pretty background and setting for the central group of Hannah bending her brown head earnestly over her violin, and Winifred lifting her delicate little face while she sang.
“Bravo!” shouted a big voice behind Dr. Helen. Bert, on his way home from one of his spasmodic “jobs,” dropped in to say “Hello!” and incidentally break the spell. Dr. Harlow woke and looked guiltily about him. His wife joined him, and Max and Archie shook the kinks out of their long legs, as the girls began to gather up their sewing and flutter about Catherine with good-bys.
“I say, Miss Hannah,” said Bert, making his way to her. “I didn’t know you played. That’s a jolly little fiddle you’ve got there. Do you know the Merry Widow waltzes?”
Hannah laughed. “I don’t,” she confessed, “but perhaps I could learn them. Bring them up some time and I’ll try.”