, no; with father--before he--went away" faltered the boy.

The woman flushed red and bit her lip.

"No, no, I mean--were there no other houses but yours?" she stammered.

"No, ma'am."

"But, wasn't your mother--anywhere?"

"Oh, yes, in father's pocket."

"Your MOTHER--in your father's POCKET!"

So plainly aghast was the questioner that David looked not a little
surprised as he explained.

"You don't understand. She is an angel-mother, and angel-mothers don't
have anything only their pictures down here with us. And that's what we
have, and father always carried it in his pocket."

"Oh----h," murmured Mrs. Holly, a quick mist in her eyes. Then, gently:
"And did you always live there--on the mountain?"

"Six years, father said."

"But what did you do all day? Weren't you ever--lonesome?"

"Lonesome?" The boy's eyes were puzzled.

"Yes. Didn't you miss things--people, other houses, boys of your own
age, and--and such things?"

David's eyes widened.

"Why, how could I?" he cried. "When I had daddy, and my violin, and my
Silver Lake, and the whole of the great big woods with everything in
them to talk to, and to talk to me?"

"Woods, and things in them to--to TALK to you!"

"Why, yes. It was the little brook, you know, after the squirrel, that
told me about being dead, and--"

"Yes, yes; but never mind, dear, now," stammered the woman, rising
hurriedly to her feet--the boy was a little wild, after all, she
thought. "You--you should go to bed. Haven't you a--a bag, or--or
anything?"

"No, ma'am; we left it," smiled David apologetically. "You see, we had
so much in it that it got too heavy to carry. So we did n't bring it."

"So much in it you didn't bring it, indeed!" repeated Mrs. Holly, under
her breath, throwing up her hands with a gesture of despair. "Boy, what
are you, anyway?"

It was not meant for a question, but, to the woman's surprise, the boy
answered, frankly, simply:--

"Father says that I'm one little instrument in the great Orchestra of
Life, and that I must see to it that I'm always in tune, and don't drag
or hit false notes."

"My land!" breathed the woman, dropping back in her chair, her eyes
fixed on the boy. Then, with an effort, she got to her feet.

"Come, you must go to bed," she stammered. "I'm sure bed is--is the
best place you. I think I can find what--what you need," she finished
feebly.

In a snug little room over the kitchen some minutes later, David found
himself