THE SILVER LAKE STORIES. 65

I can remember a peautiful lady, who
used to lay me in a little bed, and kiss.
me, and when she walked about the
room, her dress shone and rustled, not
like Granny Greér’s, or any of the
women down at the camp.”

« Silke, likely,” put in Maggy.

“ And then in the evenings she used
to sit down before something that made
Deautiful music, a great deal prettier
than my pipe, and a creat many lit-
tle children used to dance around the
room and I among them.”

“Piano, likely,” said Maggy, “and
them was your brothers and sisters,
and that lady was your mother. And

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