"Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. . "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. ” She replied.
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