"Can't we have a bit of music to-night?" inquired Mr. Stanley.

Instantly Ben and the slim girl, Mary, made a wild dive for the
front room--the parlour--and came out with a first-rate
phonograph which they placed on the table.

"Something lively now," said Mr. Stanley.

So they put on a rollicking negro song called. "My Georgia
Belle," which, besides the tuneful voices, introduced a steamboat
whistle and a musical clangour of bells. When it wound up with a
bang, Mr. Stanley took his big comfortable pipe out of his mouth
and cried out:

"Fine, fine!"

We had further music of the same sort and with one record the
older daughter, Kate, broke into the song with a full, strong
though uncultivated voice--which pleased us all very much indeed.

Presently Mrs. Stanley, who was sitting under the lamp with a
basket of socks to mend, began to nod.

"Mother's giving the signal," said the older son.

"No, no, I'm not a bit sleepy," exclaimed Mrs. Stanley.

But with further joking and laughing the family began to move
about. The older daughter gave me a hand lamp and showed me the
way upstairs to a little room at the end of the house.