Shall I read to you, Aunt Emma ?" Emma Smith loved being read to, and hour after hour Huldah spent over a book when she knew she ought to be at her basket-making.

To try to make up the time, she got up at four or five in the morning, but in the winter that meant burning oil, and they could not afford that.
Then one day it occurred to her to sing instead of reading, and after that she found things easier, for she could sing while she worked.
It was a strange medley of songs that echoed through the rooms in the thin child-like voice.

"Home, sweet Home," "Father, dear Father, come Home," "God save the King," "The Old Folks at Home," were some of their favourites, and if the words and air were not always correct, they never failed to bring pleasure to both performer and audience.
Of hymns Huldah had a greater store in her brain, and by degrees these ousted the songs as favourites.
"Sing that one about the green hill without any wall round it," Aunt Emma said one day.

"It does mind me so of 'ome when we were children.

Our cottage was just at the foot of a hill like that, and mother used to turn us out there to play together by the hour.
It was what they call a mountain.