Part 11 (1/2)

She had gone one afternoon in January, soon after the beginning of the year, to run about in the pine woods, for what with work and study she had grown tired and felt stupid.

”Go and play,” cried her Fairy.

”But my books,” said Sally.

”You will grow dull, and do well neither with books, needle, or other work without some time for play,” cried the Fairy.

And so Sally put by her book, left her mending, and ran like a wild, free thing into the woods, that had a fresh, sweet smell to them. The air was cool and did the child good. She wandered farther and farther on, thinking it was in truth a good thing to play at times.

”Sing!” cried her Fairy, ”none will hear thee, sing'st thou ever so loudly here.”

Now naught has yet been said of Sally's voice. She scarcely knew she had what would be called ”a voice.” Often she sang at her work, but Mistress Brace would likely as not bid her be quiet and not make so great a racket.

Mistress Cory Ann liked to talk a great deal herself, and so would hush Sally's singing, which after a time made Sally think that singing was only making a troublesome noise, so she did not much of it in the house.

”Sing!” said the Fairy.

Sally stood against a tree and sang without a thought or care as to how her voice might sound. The notes rang out clear and strong, for she sang as would a bird. And over and again she sang a few sweet verses she had learned from hearing young Mistress Rosamond Earlscourt practising them with her lute in the summer-house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”SALLY STOOD AGAINST A TREE AND SANG WITHOUT A THOUGHT OR CARE.”]

As she stopped, full of the joy of hearing her own young voice, she heard a little sound, and, turning around, oh! oh! there stood Master Sutcliff, the precentor, or leader of the meeting-house choir, which was made up of all such young men and maidens as could sing with melody in their voices.

Master Sutcliff was also teacher of the singing-school, to which all were welcome who could pay the regular fee, either in money, apples, fruit, or hay.

”You have a heartsome voice,” said the singing master, coming closer to Sally, and speaking in his own rich ba.s.s. ”A heartsome voice; how would it please you to come to the singing-school and help lead some of the more timorous ones?”

”I do not think my mistress would allow it,” said Sally, with downcast eyes.

”If she consents would'st come?” asked Master Sutcliff. ”I will teach you to sing correctly, and do something toward training the voice a kind Providence hath given thee.”

”Yes, I would come,” said Sally, without lifting her eyes.

Off strode Master Sutcliff, but Sally could sing no more. What would Mistress Cory Ann say?

”She will not allow it,” said Sally to herself.

”Wait and see,” cheered her Fairy.

And it seemed that wonders would never cease now they had begun, for when Sally went about getting supper Mistress Brace said to her:

”If you would be doing some good by your screeching at tunes, Master Sutcliff has been here, and will pay me three s.h.i.+llings a term for letting you help at his singing-school. I told him I couldn't be lending you for nothing, so now, all but Sat.u.r.days your evenings will be taken up. I hope that will satisfy you.”

”My dress is not fit,” said Sally.

”I will see to that!” snapped Mistress Cory Ann.

And see to it she did. For she went the next day to Goodman Chatfield's store, and bought a piece of blue linsey-woolsey, which in a day or two was made into so becoming a dress, that Mistress Brace wished she had bought the green one, which was not as pretty, but which Goodman Chatfield held at a higher price.

And Master Sutcliff knew he had made a good trade, for Sally's strong young voice was true as well, and soon led right bravely the chorus of many voices. And for the maid herself it was great joy thus to sing with others, and be taught the notes that she soon learned.