* * * Sing the song again." "But loud noises, you know." "Sing--softly," he replied.
The two went back to the piano.

Lucy played and both sang in well modulated, subdued voices, "Jesus, I my cross have taken All to leave and follow Thee; Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou, from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition, All I've sought, or hoped, or known, Yet how rich is my condition, God and heaven are still my own." They sang the three stanzas.

The two voices blended beautifully.

The father asked them to sing the song again, which they did.

Then they sang others, some of which were not familiar to the listener.
"Oh, how lovely was the morning, Brightly beamed the sun above." "What was that last song ?" inquired the father.
The two singers looked at each other as if they had been caught in some forbidden act.
"Why"-- hesitated Lucy, "that's a Sunday School song." "A 'Mormon' song ?" "Yes." "Sing--it again," he said as he lay back on his pillows, closed his eyes and listened.
"Do you know any more--'Mormon' songs ?" Lucy, of course, did not know many.