out my fiddle?"

[Illustration: "Frieda was telling a story and the others were listening
attentively."--_Page 184._]

Winifred never refused to sing, and Hannah slipped into the house, tuned
her dear Geige and brought it out. Then she played very softly, while
Winifred's sweet voice sang one quiet song after another. Dr. Harlow's
tired face relaxed and, leaning back in the chair, he presently dropped
off to sleep. The young people were very still, and Winifred smiled
softly as she sang. Dr. Helen, coming out from the office after an
interview with a wearying patient, stood in her turn watching. The blues
and pinks and greens of the girls' frocks, the boys' white flannels and
the great tree spreading above them, made a pretty background and
setting for the central group of Hannah bending her brown head earnestly
over her violin, and Winifred lifting her delicate little face while she
sang.

"Bravo!" shouted a big voice behind Dr. Helen. Bert, on his way home
from one of his spasmodic "jobs," dropped in to say "Hello!" and
incidentally break the spell. Dr. Harlow woke and looked guiltily about
him. His wife joined him, and Max and Archie shook the kinks out of
their long legs, as the girls began to gather up their sewing and
flutter about Catherine with good-bys.

"I say, Miss Hannah," said Bert, making his way to her. "I didn't know
you played. That's a jolly little fiddle you've got there. Do you know
the Merry Widow waltzes?"

Hannah laughed. "I don't," she confessed, "but perhaps I could learn
them. Bring them up some time and I'll try."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SUNDAY SCHOOL

"Hannah, are you awake?"

Hannah turned over, and opened an eye uncertainly.

"No, I guess so."

"Well, do wake up and look at me. Isn't it awful?"

Hannah unscrewed the other eye, and blinked blindly for a minute.

"What is it?" she asked, yawning.

"My cheek. Can't you see? Toothache. It's all swollen up, and it hurts."

Hannah roused herself a little more, then shut her eyes quickly. She
didn't want to laugh at Catherine.

"Can't you do anything for it?"

"I suppose so, but it won't go down in time for Sunday-school, and who
will take my class?"

Hannah groaned. "Who would ever get up in the middle of the night and
worry about a Sunday-school class, when they had a toothache? It's
unnormal! Go back to bed, unless there is something I can do for you.
Can't I call your mother?"

"No, there's no use bothering her. I k