Brightly beamed the sun above."

"What was that last song?" inquired the father.

The two singers looked at each other as if they had been caught in some
forbidden act.

"Why"--hesitated Lucy, "that's a Sunday School song."

"A 'Mormon' song?"

"Yes."

"Sing--it again," he said as he lay back on his pillows, closed his eyes
and listened.

"Do you know any more--'Mormon' songs?"

Lucy, of course, did not know many. Chester managed "O, my Father," and
one or two more. Then Lucy closed the piano and went back to her father,
where she stood smoothing gently his gray hair. Thus they talked and
read and sang a little more, while the rain fell gently without.

"This is a beautiful country," said Chester, looking out of the window.
"I do not blame people who have money, desiring to live here." Lucy came
to the window also, and they stood looking out on the rain-washed green.
The father lay still in his chair, and presently he went to sleep.
Chester and Lucy then retired to a corner, and carried on their
conversation in low tones. Faint noises from other parts of the house
came to them. From without, only the occasional shrill whistle of a