THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY
there was no other, and even in the manse it was seldom heard, for Mrs. Murray found little time, amid the multitude of household and congregational duties, to keep up her piano practice. That part of her life, with others of like kind, she had been forced to lose. But since Maimie's coming, the piano had been in daily use, and even on the Sabbath days, though not without danger to the sensibilities of the neighbors, she had used it to accompany the hymns with which the day always closed.
"Let us have the parts," cried Hughie. "Maimie and I will take the air, and Ranald will take the bass. Cousin Harry, can you sing?"
"Oh, I'll hum."
"Nonsense," said Maimie, "he sings tenor splendidly."
"Oh, that's fine!" cried Hughie, with delight. He himself was full of music. "Come on, Ranald, you stand up behind Maimie, you will need to see the notes; and I will sit here," planting himself beside his mother.
So Hughie arranged it all, and for an hour the singing went on, the favorite hymns of each being sung in turn. For the most part, Mrs. Murray sat silent, but now and then she would join with the others, singing alto when she did so, by Hughie's special direction. Her voice was not strong, but it was true, mellow, and full of music. Hughie loved to hear her sing alto, and^ more especially because he liked to join in with her, which he was too shy to do alone, even in his home, and which he would never
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