The band, with Volmer Holm as leader, furnished the music; and beautiful
it was, as it echoed from the porch out over the assembly on the lawn.
When the strains of a waltz floated out, a dozen couples glided softly
over the velvety grass.

"That's fine music, Volmer," Rupert was saying to the bandmaster, as the
music ceased.

"Do you think so? We've practiced very much since our new organization
was effected. Will it do for a concert?"

"You know I'm no judge of music. I like yours, though, Volmer. What do
you say about it, Miss Wilton? Mr. Holm wishes to know if his music is
fit for a concert?"

"Most certainly it is," answered the young lady addressed, as she
stepped up with an empty peach basket. "Mr. Holm, I understand that last
piece is your own composition? If so, I must congratulate you; it is
most beautiful."

"Thank you," and he bowed as he gave the signal to begin again.

"Mr. Ames, more peaches are wanted--the big yellow ones. Where shall I
find them?"

"I'll get some--or, I'll go with you." He was getting quite bold.
Perhaps the music had something to do with that.

He did not take the basket, but led the way out into the orchard. It was
quite a distance to the right tree.