reading table; at one end of the table was a Morris chair upholstered in
brown Spanish leather; a wolf-skin rug was thrown on the floor before an
old-fashioned Mexican fire-place built into one corner of the room; in
another corner was a smaller table on which was a graphophone; a rocker
and several chairs were set about the room and against the north wall;
between two doors, evidently opening into twin bedrooms, was an upright
grand piano--.

"Oh, a piano!" Carolyn June exclaimed delightedly noticing the
instrument. "Who plays?"

"Nobody," Old Heck answered foolishly, "I--I--well, what's the use of
lying?--I bought it one day, before prohibition come, when I was drunk
and just had it brought out because I didn't know what else to do with
it--"

"You funny old uncle!" Carolyn June laughed, "I love you
already.--Ophelia plays," she added.

"Not so well or so much as Carolyn June," Ophelia said.

"Maybe we'll have some music then some day; that ain't canned," Skinny
suggested eagerly.

"You women can use them rooms," Old Heck said, referring to the doors on
each side of the piano. "Parker and me did have them but we've arranged
to sleep in the bunk-house while you are here."

"Carolyn June and I need but one," Ophelia said, "it isn't fair to run
you out--"