Her attention was immediately drawn from them to the newcomer of whom Fult had spoken the day before—a lovely young girl who led the singing, and sang as spontaneously and joyously as a mocking-bird, and whose example was contagious, for the more timid young people, who had sung haltingly before, now poured their whole souls into the delight of it. Fult's voice was the best among the young men, and blended well with that of the new singer.
Aunt Ailsie sat down on a bench and listened, somewhat critically, for half an hour. "Fulty was right," she said to herself then, "she can outsing me when I was a young gal. But I misdoubt if she knows as many song-ballats as I knowed."
There was so much enthusiasm that the usual half-hour of singing lengthened into an hour, and was ended only by the ringing of the dinner-bell below.
"We're so glad you came," said Amy, as the two started down the hill; "we want to tell you how very grateful we are for the cow."
"Yes," said Virginia, joining them; "nothing could be a greater blessing to us."
"I heared not nary one of you was able to milk her," said Aunt Ailsie; and she could not keep all reproach out of her voice.
"No, but Billy Lee can, and we've hired him to do it regularly, and the milk is delicious, and we've bought us a churn this morning."
"She's a right cow," said Aunt Ailsie; "but"—solemnly—"hit takes a woman-person to get the best out of a cow." She sighed deeply. "But, women, that's neither here nor yander now; what I come for to-day was to tell you my man has give his consent for me to get larning—enough, anyhow, to read Scripter, though no more."
"Oh, we're so glad for you—you must have your first lesson right after dinner."
"That's what I aim to; 'pears like I can't hardly wait to begin."