“At eight o’clock Wilbur sifted in with his records and something else flat and thin, done up in paper that I didn’t notice much at the time.  My dear heart, how serious he was!  As serious as—­well, I chanced to be present at the house of mourning when the barber come to shave old Judge Armstead after he’d passed away—­you know what I mean—­kind of like him Wilbur was, talking subdued and cat-footing round very solemn and professional.  I thought he’d never get that machine going.  He cleaned it, and he oiled it, and he had great trouble picking out the right fibre needle, holding six or eight of ’em up to the light, doing secret things to the machine’s inwards, looking at us sharp as if we oughtn’t to be talking even then, and when she did move off I’m darned if he didn’t hang in a strained manner over that box, like he was the one that was doing it all and it wouldn’t get the notes right if he took his attention off.

“It was a first-class record, I’ll say that.  It was the male barytone—­one of them pleading voices that get all into you.  It wasn’t half over before I seen Nettie was strongly moved, as they say, only she was staring at Wilbur, who by now was leading the orchestra with one graceful arm and looking absorbed and sodden, like he done it unconsciously.  Chester just set there with his mouth open, like something you see at one of these here aquariums.

“We moved round some when it was over, while Wilbur was picking out just the right needle for the other record, and so I managed to cut that lump of a Chester out of the bunch and hold him on the porch till I got Nettie out, too.  Then I said ‘Sh-h-h!’ so they wouldn’t move when Wilbur let the mezzo-soprano start.  And they had to stay out there in the golden moonlight with love’s young dream and everything.  The lady singer was good, too.  No use in talking, that song must have done a lot of heart work right among our very best families.  It had me going again so I plumb forgot my couple outside.  I even forgot Wilbur, standing by the box showing the lady how to sing.

“It come to the last—­you know how it ends—­’To kiss the cross, sweetheart, to kiss the cross!’ There was a rich and silent moment and I says, ’If that Chet Timmins hasn’t shown himself to be a regular male teep by this time—­’ And here come Chet’s voice, choking as usual, ’Yes, paw switched to Durhams and Herefords over ten years ago—­you see Holsteins was too light; they don’t carry the meat—­’ Honest!  I’m telling you what I heard.  And yet when they come in I could see that Chester had had tears in his eyes from that song, so still I didn’t give in, especially as Nettie herself looked very exalted, like she wasn’t at that minute giving two whoops in the bad place for the New Dawn.

[Illustration:  “Chester just set there with his mouth open, like something you see at one of these here aquariums”]