The rest of the time, after tea, was spent in making music. It had become a usual Sunday evening entertainment. Mrs. Barclay played, and she and the two girls sang. It was all sacred music, of course, varied exceedingly, however, by the various tastes of the family. Old hymn and psaulm tunes were what Mrs. Armadale liked; and those generally came first; then the girls had more modern pieces, and with those Mrs. Barclay interwove an anthem or a chant now and then. Madge and Lois both had good voices and good natural taste and feeling; and Mrs. Barclay's instructions had been eagerly received. This evening Philip joined the choir; and Charity declared it was "better'n they could do in the Episcopal church."
"Do they have the best singing in the Episcopal church?" asked Philip absently.
"Well, they set up to; and you see they give more time to it. Our folks won't practise."
"I don't care how folk's voices sound, if their hearts are in it," said Mrs. Armadale.
"But you may notice, voices sound better if hearts are in it," said Dillwyn. "That made a large part of the beauty of our concert this evening."
"Was your'n in it?" asked Mrs. Armadale abruptly.
"My heart? In the words? I am afraid I must own it was not, in the way you mean, madam. If I must answer truth."
"Don't you always speak truth?"
"I believe I may say, that is my habit," Philip answered, smiling.
"Then, do you think you ought to sing sech words, if you don't mean 'em?"