“No, ma’am,” said Nettie, laughing, and trying not to laugh, and wanting to cry, and being too amazed to do so. “But I was so surprised and so almost scared, that they dropped.
“O Mrs. Farley, we have wanted that more than anything else in the world; ever since Mr. Sherrill saw how my brother Norman loved music, and said it might be the saving of him; Jerry and I have planned and planned, but we never thought of being able to do it for a long, long time.”
Yet all this joy was over an old, somewhat wheezy little house organ which stood in the second-story unused room of Mrs. Farley’s house, and which she had threatened to send to the city auction rooms to get out of the way.
She offered to lend it to Nettie for her “Rooms,” and Nettie’s gratitude was so great that the blood seemed inclined to leave her face entirely for a minute, then thought better of it and rolled over it in waves.
POEM FOR RECITATION.
WHAT THE LECTURER TOLD THE BOYS.
KIT and I (he’s Christopher, but it’s pretty hard to speak)
Had been talking about the lecture, the better part of a week.
I was fourteen last Wednesday, and Kit is twelve and a half—