Ethelyn's Mistake

Melinda's fingers were strained and cut with carpet thread, and pricked

with carpet tacks, and red with washing dishes, but they moved nimbly

over the keys, striking out with a will the few tunes she had learned

during her two quarters' instruction. She had acquired a great deal of

knowledge in a short time, for she was passionately fond of music, and

every spare moment had been devoted to it, so that she had mastered the

scales with innumerable exercises, besides learning several pieces, of

which Money-musk was one. This she now played with a sprightliness and

energy which brought Andy to his feet, while the cowhides moved to the

stirring music in a fashion which would have utterly confounded poor

Ethelyn could she have seen them. But Ethelyn was miles and miles away.

She was not coming for a week or more, and in that time Andy tried his

hand at Yankee Doodle, playing with one finger, and succeeding far

beyond his most sanguine expectations. Andy was delighted with the

piano, and so was Eunice, the hired girl, who left her ironing and her

dishes, standing with wiping towel or flatiron in hand, humming an

accompaniment to Andy's playing, and sometimes helping to find the

proper key to touch next.

Eunice was not an Irish girl, nor a German, nor a Scotch, but a

full-blooded American, and "just as good as her employers," with whom

she always ate and sat. It was not Mrs. Markham's custom to keep a girl

the year round, but when she did it was Eunice Plympton, the daughter of

the drunken fiddler who earned his livelihood by playing for the dances

the young people of Olney sometimes got up. He was anticipating quite a

windfall from the infair it was confidently expected would be given by

Mrs. Markham in honor of her son's marriage; and Eunice herself had

washed and starched and ironed the white waist she intended to wear on

the same occasion. Of course she knew she would have to wait and tend

and do the running, she said to Melinda, to whom she confided her

thoughts, but after the supper was over she surely might have one little

dance, if with nobody but Andy.

This was Eunice, and she had been with Mrs. Markham during the past

summer; but her time was drawing to a close. All the heavy work was

over, the harvests were gathered in, the soap was made, the cleaning

done, the house made ready for Richard's wife, and it was the

understanding that when that lady came and was somewhat domesticated,

Miss Eunice was to leave. There was not much to do in the winter, Mrs.

Markham said, and with Richard's wife's help she should get along. Alas!

how little Ethelyn was prepared for the home which awaited her, and for

the really good woman, who, on the afternoon of her son's arrival, saw

into the oven the young turkey which Andy had been feeding for so very

long with a view to this very day, and then helped Eunice set the table

for the expected guests.