Andy always looked for direct answers to his prayers, and believing he had received one his face was radiant with content and satisfaction, when after supper he brushed and wet his hair and plastered it down upon his forehead, and changed his boots for a lighter pair of Richard’s, and then sat down before the parlor fire with the yarn sock he was knitting for himself.  Ethelyn had never seen him engaged in this feminine employment before, and she felt a strong disposition to laugh, but fearing to wound him, repressed her smiles and seemed not to look at him as he worked industriously on the heel, turning and shaping it better than she could have done.  It was not often that Ethelyn had favored the family with music, but she did so that night, playing and singing pieces which she knew were familiar to them, and only feeling a momentary pang of resentment when, at the close of “Yankee Doodle,” with variations, quiet John remarked that Melinda herself could not go ahead of that!  Melinda’s style of music was evidently preferable to her own, but she swallowed the insult and sang “Lily Dale,” at the request of Andy, who, thinking the while of dear little Daisy, wiped his eyes with the leg of his sock, while a tear trickled down his mother’s cheek and dropped into her lap.

“I thought Melinda Jones wanted to practice on the pianner,” Eunice said, after Ethelyn was done playing; “I heard her saying so one day and wondering if Miss Markham would be willin’.”

Ethelyn was in a mood then to assent to most anything, and she expressed her entire approbation, saying even that she would gladly give Melinda any assistance in her power.  Ethelyn had been hard and cold and proud so long that she scarcely knew herself in this new phase of character, and the family did not know her, either.  But they appreciated it fully, and James’ eyes were very bright and sparkling when, in imitation of Andy, he bade his sister good-night, thinking, as she left the room how beautiful she was and how pleased Melinda would be, and hoping she would find it convenient to practice there evenings, as that would render an escort home absolutely necessary, unless “Terrible Tim” came for her.

Ethelyn had not changed her mind when Melinda came home next day, and as a matter of course called at the Markhams’ in the evening.  But Ethelyn’s offer had come a little too late—­Melinda was going to Washington to spend the winter!  A bachelor brother of her mother’s, living among the mountains of Vermont, had been elected Member of Congress in the place of the regular member, who had resigned, and as the uncle was wealthy and generous, and had certain pleasant reminiscences of a visit to Iowa when a little black-eyed girl had been so agreeable to him, he had written for her to join him in Washington, promising to defray all expenses and sending on a draft for two hundred dollars, with which she was to procure whatever she deemed necessary for her winter’s outfit.  Melinda’s star was in the ascendant,