"I had nothing to do with it, my son," Mr. Keith asserted with a grave earnestness that precluded the idea that he might be jesting.
The boy looked bewildered, then disappointed. "There's been some mistake, I'm afraid. Perhaps there's another family of our name somewhere in this region, and—"
But his mother whispered a word in his ear and his face grew radiant. "Is that it? O mother, how good they are!"
"Let's git the thing out and see what it's like," said the man who had spoken before.
The others eagerly assented, and set to work at once, Mr. Keith giving assistance and directions, Mrs. Keith pointing out the place in the parlor where she wished it to stand.
"You kin play, I 'spose, Mrs. Keith. Won't you give us a tune?" was the eager request when their task was ended.
Smilingly she seated herself and played "Yankee Doodle" with variations.
They were delighted. "First-rate!" commented the one who seemed to act as chief spokesman of the party. "Now, ma'am, if you please, won't you strike up 'Hail Columby.'"
She good-naturedly complied, added "Star Spangled Banner," then rose from the instrument.