touch the piano."

"May I be allowed to speak?" I asked.

"Most certainly," said both at once.

"I have had a little talk with Miss Cathcart, and I am entirely of
Mr. Armstrong's opinion," I said. "And with his permission--I am
pretty sure of my old friend's concurrence--I will tell you a plan I
have been thinking of. You remember, colonel, how she was more
interested in the anecdotes our friend the Bloomfields told the other
evening, than she has been in anything else, since I came. It seems to
me that the interest she cannot find for herself, we might be able to
provide for her, by telling her stories; the course of which everyone
should be at liberty to interrupt, for the introduction of any remark
whatever. If we once got her interested in anything, it seems to me,
as Mr. Armstrong has already hinted, that the tide of life would begin
to flow again. She would eat better, and sleep better, and speculate
less, and think less about herself--not _of_ herself--I don't mean
that, colonel; for no one could well think less of herself than she
does. And if we could amuse her in that way for a week or two, I think
it would give a fair chance to any physical remedies Mr. Armstrong
might think proper to try, for they act most rapidly on a system in
movement. It would be beginning from the inside, would it not?"

"A capital plan," said the doctor, who had been listening with marked
approbation; "and I know one who I am sure would help. For my part, I
never told a story in my life, but I am willing to try--after awhile,
that is. My brother, however, would, I know, be delighted to lend his
aid to such a scheme, if colonel Cathcart would be so good as to