“So I thought. Well now, Maggie, I have a favor to ask. Suppose we ask Miss Martin in the next Nest to keep her eye on the sleeping children here, while you and I walk over to the lake and watch the moon sail over the trees. There you can sing to me without disturbing anyone, you see.”
Maggie looked at Uncle Ben and grasping his arm, said:
“I’ll do ennyt’ing for you, but you’ll wish you never ast me to sing!”
Miss Martin quickly consented to keep guard over Maggie’s brood as well as the little ones in her own Nest; and Uncle Ben shared his secret with her, while Maggie sought for a hat and an old pair of cotton gloves—for was she not going for a walk with a real gentleman! Ladies always wore gloves at such times.
Uncle Ben took Maggie’s hand to make her feel quite at ease with him, and soon the two reached the Summer House built on the little bluff overlooking the ornamental lake where Aunt Selina first heard Ruth plan for Happy Hills.
All was quiet and peaceful and the faint lap, lap, lap of the water as it was lightly rippled by the night-breezes, gave one a feeling of being in another world. So thought Maggie.
She forgot where she was and who was with her as her soul drank in the beauty of the scene, and when Uncle Ben whispered, “Sing ‘The Song of Love,’ Maggie,” she sang it softly as if in accord with her own wishes at the moment.
The melody came forth so pure and clear and free, yet so controlled, that Uncle Ben marvelled. He had found a wonder indeed!
Maggie softly trilled every song she had learned at Happy Hills, and then her silent companion took her hand and they walked back to the Nest.
“Diden’ you like my singin’, Mister Uncle Ben?” queried Maggie, wistfully, for he had not said a word.