"One can't hoe corn nor pull weeds with a fiddle-bow--and that's all he seems to know how to handle." "But he can learn--and he does play beautifully," murmured the woman; whenever before had Ellen Holly ventured to use words of argument with her husband, and in extenuation, too, of an act of her own! There was no reply except a muttered "Humph!" under the breath.

Then Simeon Holly rose and stalked into the house.
The next day was Sunday, and Sunday at the farmhouse was a thing of stern repression and solemn silence.

In Simeon Holly's veins ran the blood of the Puritans, and he was more than strict as to what he considered right and wrong.

When half-trained for the ministry, ill-health had forced him to resort to a less confining life, though never had it taken from him the uncompromising rigor of his views.

It was a distinct shock to him, therefore, on this Sunday morning to be awakened by a peal of music such as the little house had never known before.