ever invented. But there ain't room in this house for one. Anyway, I
imagine they'd cost a thousand dollars. I reckon something in the
piano line would suit Marilla the best. She took lessons in that
respect for two years over at Birdstail. I wouldn't trust the buying
of an instrument to anybody else but myself. I reckon if I hadn't took
up sheep-raising I'd have been one of the finest composers or piano-
and-organ manufacturers in the world.'

"That was Uncle Cal's style. But I never lost any patience with him,
on account of his thinking so much of Marilla. And she thought just as
much of him. He sent her to the academy over at Birdstail for two
years when it took nearly every pound of wool to pay the expenses.

"Along about Tuesday Uncle Cal put out for San Antone on the last
wagonload of wool. Marilla's uncle Ben, who lived in Birdstail, come
over and stayed at the ranch while Uncle Cal was gone.

"It was ninety miles to San Antone, and forty to the nearest railroad-
station, so Uncle Cal was gone about four days. I was over at the
Double-Elm when he came rolling back one evening about sundown. And up
there in the wagon, sure enough, was a piano or a organ--we couldn't
tell which--all wrapped up in woolsacks, with a wagon-sheet tied over
it in case of rain. And out skips Marilla, hollering, 'Oh, oh!' with
her eyes shining and her hair a-flying. 'Dad--dad,' she sings out,
'have you brought it--have you brought it?'--and it right there before
her eyes, as women will do.

"'Finest piano in San Antone,' says Uncle Cal, waving his hand, proud.
'Genuine rosewood, and the finest, loudest tone you ever listened to.
I heard the storekeeper play it, and I took it on the spot and paid