ning,"

"Yes, many have come to me so. Often when I have played in the woods
the music that has no tune, some one who was very sad has come to me.
I saw you that day from far and I felt you were sad, so I called you.
I called you," he repeated, lingering on the words, "and you came."

"I do not so much care for the printed music," he went on, after an
interval, "unless it might be the great, beautiful music which takes so
many to play. I have often thought of it and wondered what might
happen if the players were not willing to follow the master--if one
should play a tune where no tune was written, and he who has the violin
should insist on playing the flute.

"I would not want the violin, for I think the flute is best of all. It
is made from the trees on the mountains and the silver hidden within,
and so is best fitted for the message of the mountains--the great, high
music.

"I'm thinking that the life we live is not unlike the players. We have
each our own instrument, but we are not content to follow as the Master
leads. We do not like the low, long notes that mean sadness; we will
not take what is meant for us, but insist on the dancing tunes and the
light music of pleasure. It is this that makes the discord and all the
confusion. The Master knows his meaning and could we each play our
part well, at the right time, there would be nothing wrong in all the
world."

Miss Evelina sighed, deeply, and the Piper put his hand on hers.

"I'm not meaning to reproach you," he said, kindly, "though, truly, I
do think you have played wrong. In any music I have heard, there has
never been any one instrument that has played all the time and sadly.
When there is sadness, there is always rest, and you have had no rest."

"No," said Evelina, her voice breaking, "I have had no rest--God knows
that!"

"Then do you not see," asked the Piper very gently, "that you cannot
help but make the music wrong? The Master gives you one deep note to
play, and you hold it, always the same note, till the music is at an
end.

"'T is something wrong, I'm thinking, that has made you hold it so.
I'm not asking you to tell me, but I think that one day I shall see.
Together we shall find what makes the music wrong, and together we
shall make it right again."

"Together," repeated Evelina, unconsciously. Once the word had been
sweet to her, but now it brought only bitterness.

"Aye, together. 'T is for that I stayed. Laddie and I we