Some of the Abbeys had been there the evening before. One
bit of music was a song Linda had tried to sing and given up because it
soared above her vocal range. Stella rose to put up the music. Without
any premeditated idea of playing, she sat down at the piano and began to
run over the accompaniment. She could play passably.
"That doesn't seem so very hard," she thought aloud. Benton turned at
sound of her words.
"Say, did you never get any part of your voice back, Stell?" he asked.
"I never hear you try to sing."
"No," she answered. "I tried and tried long after you left home, but it
was always the same old story. I haven't sung a note in five years."
"Linda fell down hard on that song last night," he went on. "There was a
time when that wouldn't have been a starter for you, eh? Did you know
Stella used to warble like a prima donna, Jack?"
Fyfe shook his head.
"Fact. The governor spent a pot of money cultivating her voice. It was
some voice, too. She--"
He broke off to listen. Stella was humming the words of the song, her
fingers picking at the melody instead of the accompaniment.
"Why, you can," Benton cried.
"Can what?" She turned on the stool.
"Sing, of course. You got that high trill that Linda had to screech
through. You got it perfectly, without effort."
"I didn't," she returned. "Why, I wasn't singing, just humming it over."
"You let out a link or two on those high notes just the same, whether
you knew you were doing it or not," her brother returned impatiently.
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