in a whining,
tremulous tone, regardless of the strangers.

Miss Underhill begged to be excused, and went for a plate of bread and
butter and a cup of milk.

"Perhaps you'd like to see our old parlor," she said to her guests, and
opened the door.

There were two rooms on this side of the house. The back one was used
for a sleeping chamber. She threw the shutters wide open, and a little
late sunshine stole over the faded carpet that had once been such a
matter of pride with the two young women. There were some family
portraits, a man with a queue and a ruffled shirt-front, another with a
big curly white wig coming down over his shoulders, and several ladies
whose attire seemed very queer indeed. There was a black sofa studded
with brass nails that shone as if they had been lately polished, a tall
desk and bookcase going up to the ceiling, brass and silver candlesticks
and snuffers' tray, as well as a bright steel "tinder box" on the high,
narrow mantel. A big mahogany table stood in the centre of the room,
polished until you could see your face in it. But there was an odd tall
article in the corner, much tarnished now, but ornamented with gilt and
white vines that drooped and twisted about. Long wiry strings went from
top to bottom.

"I suppose you don't know what that is!" said Miss Lois, when she saw
the little girl inspecting it. "That's a harp. Young ladies played on it
when we were young ourselves. And they had a spinet. I believe it's
altered now and called a piano."

"A harp!" said the little girl in amaze. Her ideas of a harp were very
vague, but she thought it was something you carried around with you.
She had heard the children sing

"I want to be an angel
And with the angels stand;
A crown upon my forehead,
A harp within my hand,"

and the size of this confused her.

"But how could you play on it?" she asked.

"You stood this way. You could sit down, but it was considered more
graceful to stand. And you played in this manner."

She fingered the rusted strings. A few emitted a doleful sort of sound
almost like a cry.

"We've all grown old together," she said sorrowfully. "It was considered
a great accomplishment in my time. I believe people still play on the
harp. We had a great many curious things, but several years ago a
committee of some kind came and bought them. We needed the money sadly,
and we had no one to leave them to when we died. There was some
beautiful old chi