throat again; "there are two good ones in Wallacetown, but, you see, we
never could af--"

"Well, some teachers do more harm than good," interrupted her visitor,
"probably you've escaped a great deal. Play something else, won't you? Do
you mind this dim light? I like it so much."

So Molly opened the piano and began again, doing her very best. She chose
the simple things she knew by heart, and put all her will-power as well
as all her skill into playing them well. It was only when she stopped,
confessing that she knew no more, that Mrs. Gary stirred.

"I used to play a good deal myself," she said, speaking very low;
"perhaps I could take it up again. Do you think you could help me,
Molly?"

"_I_! help _you_! However in the world--"

"By letting _me_ be your teacher! I'm getting rested now, and I find I've
a lot of superfluous energy at my disposal--your brother had a dose of it
this morning! I want something to do--something to keep me
busy--something to keep me from thinking. I haven't half as much talent
as you, but I've had more chances to learn. Listen! This is the way that
'Serenade' ought to go"--and Mrs. Cary began to play. The dusk turned to
moonlight around them, and the Grays sat in the dining-room, hesitating
to intrude, and listening with all their ears; and still she sat,
talking, explaining, illustrating to Molly, and finally ended by playing,
one after another, the old familiar hymns which they all loved.

"It's settled, then--I'll give you your first real lesson to-morrow, and