This was taken them both on the right side, and they agreed to the
bargain, to the great satisfaction of the rest.

There was a little more talk about the gardens, and then they all
sang together. The band delighted Nat, for Mrs. Bhaer played the
piano, Franz the flute, Mr. Bhaer a bass viol, and he himself the
violin. A very simple little concert, but all seemed to enjoy it, and
old Asia, sitting in the corner, joined at times with the sweetest
voice of any, for in this family, master and servant, old and young,
black and white, shared in the Sunday song, which went up to the
Father of them all. After this they each shook hands with Father
Bhaer; Mother Bhaer kissed them every one from sixteen-year-old
Franz to little Rob, how kept the tip of her nose for his own
particular kisses, and then they trooped up to bed.

The light of the shaded lamp that burned in the nursery shone
softly on a picture hanging at the foot of Nat's bed. There were
several others on the walls, but the boy thought there must be
something peculiar about this one, for it had a graceful frame of
moss and cones about it, and on a little bracket underneath stood a
vase of wild flowers freshly gathered from the spring woods. It
was the most beautiful picture of them all, and Nat lay looking at
it, dimly feeling what it meant, and wishing he knew all about it.

"That's my picture," said a little voice in the room. Nat popped up
his head, and there was Demi in his night-gown pausing on his
way back from Aunt Jo's chamber, whither he had gone to get a cot
for a cut finger.

"What is he doing to the children?" asked Nat.