"What would you like to do?" asked Fergus's mother. "Would you like to learn to make music as well as to play it? That is what Fergus wants to do."
Gratian shook his head.
"I don't know," he replied. "I don't know yet. And isn't it best not to plan about it, because I know father will need me on the farm?"
"Perhaps it is best," she said. But she answered as if thinking of something else at the same time.
And then Andrew came out to help Fergus up the steps into the house, where tea was waiting for them in the library.
Fergus's mother was rather tired. She had walked some distance to see a poor woman who was ill that afternoon.
"Don't ask me to play much to-day, my dear boys," she said. "I never like to play much when I am tired; it doesn't seem fair to the music."
"Then you sha'n't play at all, mother darling," said Fergus. "Gratian, I'll tell you what; you shall tell mother and me a story. That will rest her nicely."
Gratian looked up hesitatingly.
"He tells such nice stories," Fergus went on.