he paid three hundred dollars for it—nearly a third of what the wool-clip brought!’
“‘Well, it ain’t anyways in the neighbourhood of a third of what you are worth,’ I told her. ‘And I don’t think Uncle Cal is too sick to hear a little agitation of the piano-keys just to christen the machine.
“‘Not to-night, Rush,’ says Marilla, in a way that she had when she wanted to settle things.
“But it seems that Uncle Cal was plenty sick, after all. He got so bad that Ben saddled up and rode over to Birdstail for Doc Simpson. I stayed around to see if I’d be needed for anything.
“When Uncle Cal’s pain let up on him a little he called Marilla and says to her: ‘Did you look at your instrument, honey? And do you like it?’
“‘It’s lovely, dad,’ says she, leaning down by his pillow; ‘I never saw one so pretty. How dear and good it was of you to buy it for me!’
“‘I haven’t heard you play on it any yet,’ says Uncle Cal; ‘and I’ve been listening. My side don’t hurt quite so bad now—won’t you play a piece, Marilla?’
“‘But no; she puts Uncle Cal off and soothes him down like you’ve seen women do with a kid. It seems she’s made up her mind not to touch that piano at present.
“When Doc Simpson comes over he tells us that Uncle Cal has pneumonia the worst kind; and as the
