He knew the beginnings of
a training--how to give her the advantage of the instruction he had
received from one of the best teachers in Milan. He was lucky enough to
find books on the Italian method of voice production and on the way back
to McGuire's, armed with these, he stopped off at the Bergen house in
Black Rock village and returned Beth's call.

There he found Shad Wells, in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe in the
portico, and looking like a thundercloud. In response to Peter's query,
he moved his right shoulder half an inch in the direction of the door,
and then spat in the geranium bed. So Peter knocked at the door, softly
at first, then loudly, when Beth emerged, her sleeves rolled to her
shoulders and her arms covered with soapsuds.

"Why, Shad," she said witheringly, after she had greeted Peter, "you
might have let me know! Come in, Mr. Nichols. Excuse my appearance.
Wash-day," she explained, as he followed her into the dark interior.

"I can't stop," said the visitor, "I just came to bring these books----"

"For _me_!" she exclaimed, hurriedly wiping her arms on her apron.

"I got them in New York----"

She pulled up the shade at the side, letting in the sunlight, an act
permissible in the parlors of Black Rock only on state occasions, for
the sunlight (as every one knew) was not kind to plush-covered
furniture.

"For _me_!" Beth repeated softly. "I didn't think you meant it."

"_Tone production--Exercises_," explained Peter, "and here's one on _The
Lives of the Great Composers_. I thought you might be interested in
reading it."

"Oh, yes. I am--I will be. Thank you ever so much----"

"Of course you can't do much by yourself just yet--not without a
piano--to get the pitch--the key--but I've brought a tuning fork
and----"

"But I've got the harmonium----," Beth broke in excitedly. "It's a
little out of tune, but----"

"The harmonium!" asked the bewildered Peter. "What's that?"

Beth proudly indicated a piece of furniture made of curly walnut which
stood in the corner of the room. There were several books on the top of
it--_Gospel Tunes_--_Moody and Sankey_, a Methodist Episcopal hymn book,
and a glass case containing wax flowers.

"We play it Sundays----," said Beth, "but it ought to help----"

"You play----!" he said in surprise.

"Aunt Tillie and I--oh, just hymns----." She sat, while Peter watched,
began pumping vigorously with her feet and presently the instrument
emitted a doleful s