Some one fetched the guitar from the car and Elinor, leaning against a tree, struck several chords and smiled mischievously.

“Shall it be a love song?” she asked.

“Something religious would be more appropriate in this sacred spot,” observed Miss Campbell severely.  But Elinor, ignoring the suggestion, began to sing: 

“’O, My Luve’s like a red, red rose,
  That’s newly sprung in June. 
My Luve’s like the melodie
  That’s sweetly played in tune.

“’As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
  So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
  Till a’ the seas gang dry.

“‘Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
  And rocks melt wi’ the sun,
I will luve thee still, my dear,
  While the sands of life shall run.

“’And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
  And fare thee weel a while,
And I will come again My Luve,
  Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.’”

While Elinor sang this charming song Mr. Buxton regarded Miss Helen Campbell with an expression so abjectly adoring that Mr. Campbell gave a roar of boyish laughter and laid himself flat on the ground in the ecstasy of his amusement.  They all laughed, indeed.  Even Miss Campbell joined in, in spite of her annoyance.

“I should think you might sing your own songs, Buxton, instead of letting a young lady do it for you,” said Mr. Campbell at last.

“Allow me,” answered the bachelor calmly.

He seized the guitar, re-tuned it with great care, and began strumming lightly on the strings.  Suddenly he lifted up his voice in song and nobody attempted to keep a serious countenance because he seemed entirely oblivious to all jests at his expense.  Here is the song he sang: 

“A Magnet hung in a hardware shop,
And all around was a loving crop
Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,
Offering love for all their lives;
But for iron the Magnet felt no whim;
Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him;
From needles and nails and knives he’d turn,
For he’d set his heart on a Silver Churn!

“A Silver Churn!  A Silver Churn! 
His most esthetic
Very magnetic
Fancy took this turn: 
If I can wheedle
A knife or a needle,
Why not a Silver Churn?

“And Iron and Steel expressed surprise;
The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,
The penknives felt shut up, no doubt;
The scissors declared themselves cut out. 
The kettles, they boiled with rage, ’tis said;
While every nail went off its head
And hither and thither began to roam,
Till a hammer came up and drove them home.

“It drove them home!  It drove them home! 
While this magnetic,
Peripatetic
Lover, he lived to learn,
By no endeavor
Can a Magnet ever
Attract a Silver Churn!”

“Well, really,” cried Mr. Campbell, at the end of the song when the laughter had somewhat died down, “really, I think Buxton, you are the most shameless old soul I ever met in my life.  Come along and start home.  A shower is coming up, and we’d better get the cars into the valley before it catches us and wets the Silver Churn, and the scissors, and needles, and nails, and knives.”