Then quick and easily as the band had done, Magnus dropped once more into the plaintive burden of:
"Home, home; sweet, sweet home; There is no place like home,-- There is no place like home."
But now, when he stopped playing, his two sisters came round him caressing him, hanging upon him, and even Mrs. Kindred looked in from the other room and said:
"Magnus, don't play that any more. You break my heart. I shall never be able to let you go back again."
"Don't fret now, mammy," he said. "It has been pretty tough, but the worst is over."
Hope rules a land forever green: All powers that serve the bright-eyed queen Are confident and gay. Clouds at her bidding disappear; Points she to aught? The bliss draws near, And fancy rules the way.
That was a wonderful day. But it may be remarked, that Mr. Kindred went home more than ever discontented with the length of the hill.
"Living up there," he said, "when we are all down here. It is too bad. How many times a month does Cherry walk down here in the sun?"
"She need not walk in the sun," said the girls, laughing at him. "There is shade all the way if she wants it. Why, she comes every day, you foolish boy."
"At what hour, generally, you foolish girl?"
"Oh, all sorts of times," said Violet; "after breakfast, and before dinner, and after tea. But they are both coming down to-day to dine with us."
"I think I will just go up and make sure they understand that," said Magnus. "Cherry does not always take up an idea as quick as she might."
And away he dashed out of the house and began to double-time it up the hill, the three women at home watching from the window in admiring joy.
"He is the best looking fellow that ever was," said Rose. And the mother answered as Cherry had done:
"Oh, mother," they cried, "you do it, every time you look at him."
Magnus meanwhile sped lightly up the hill. He had his reasons for liking to go at this particular time; the picture yesterday was too lovely for him not to long to see it again, and it might be that Cherry read to her father every morning. Then what was the book? Cherry had closed it so suddenly upon his coming, that he caught no glimpse of the inside; but the outside stirred his curiosity. It was an old book, bound in the dainty old-time vellum, once marked and embossed with gold; but that was much faded and worn away. It did not look like a Bible, and yet that, Magnus felt, was the correct thing for Cherry--such a girl as she was--to be reading to her father at breakfast time. Other people's duties are marked out in such very distinct lines that even colour blindness is rarely doubtful over them.