"Why, how could I?" he cried. "When I had daddy, and my violin,
and my Silver Lake, and the whole of the great big woods with
everything in them to talk to, and to talk to me?"

"Woods, and things in them to--to TALK to you!"

"Why, yes. It was the little brook, you know, after the squirrel,
that told me about being dead, and--"

"Yes, yes; but never mind, dear, now," stammered the woman,
rising hurriedly to her feet--the boy was a little wild, after
all, she thought. "You--you should go to bed. Haven't you a--a
bag, or--or anything?"

"No, ma'am; we left it," smiled David apologetically. "You see,
we had so much in it that it got too heavy to carry. So we did
n't bring it."

"So much in it you didn't bring it, indeed!" repeated Mrs.
Holly, under her breath, throwing up her hands with a gesture of
despair. "Boy, what are you, anyway?"

It was not meant for a question, but, to the woman's surprise,
the boy answered, frankly, simply:--

"Father says that I'm one little instrument in the great
Orchestra of Life, and that I must see to it that I'm always in
tune, and don't drag or hit false notes."

"My land!" breathed the woman, dropping back in her chair, her