Martha was so kind and so still; and her
father was so kind and so still, engrossed in his papers
or books, often sitting by himself in his own study.
Little Lucy in this peace and stillness was not hav-
ing her share of childhood. When other little girls
came to play with her. Miss Martha enjoined quiet,
and even Lily Jennings's bird-like chattering be-
came subdued. It was only at school that Lucy
got her chance for the irresponsible delight which
was the simple right of her childhood, and there her
zeal for her lessons prevented. She was happy at
school, however, for there she lived in an atmos-
phere of demonstrative affection. The teachers
were given to seizing her in fond arms and caress-
ing her, and so were her girl companions; while
the boys, especially Jim Patterson, looked wistful-
ly on.
Jim Patterson was in love, a charming little poetical
boy-love; but it was love. Everything which he
did in those days was with the thought of little
Lucy for incentive. He stood better in school than
he had ever done before, but it was all for the sake
of little Lucy. Jim Patterson had one talent, rather
rudimentary, still a talent. He could play by ear.
His father owned an old violin. He had been in-
clined to music in early youth, and Jim got per-
mission to practise on it, and he went by himself
in the hot attic and practised.
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