"I'm afraid not--unless I have the music, but I'll try," she answered,
and her fingers again sought the keys.

The dreamy Mexican air drifted seductively out on the sultry motionless
night.

Bert looked through the window and saw Skinny lean back in his chair,
his eyes closed and an expression of supreme content stealing over his
face.

"Skinny's gone--he's surrendered," he said to Chuck, lying full length
on the porch at his side; "look at the poor cuss with his eyes shut and
grinning as if he was seeing visions of Paradise!"

"That combination would capture most anybody," Chuck answered. "I'm
starting to feel affectionate myself."

Bert didn't reply, Chuck having expressed too nearly his own swelling
emotions.

"Uncle Josiah!" Carolyn June called, suddenly whirling around on the
piano stool as she finished the last bars of _La Paloma_, "may I have a
horse?"

Old Heck, grown silent under the spell of the music, and, like Skinny,
sitting dreaming dreams that almost frightened him, started quickly.

"A--a what?" he asked.