Those who paused to hear her sing passed on feeling sad at heart.

Beginning in somewhat low tones, her voice gradually swelled and the full, round tones full of melody and pathos seemed to lift up and bear one irresistibly away.
Viola's mother sat by and looked with tender solicitude on her daughter singing and playing as she had never before in her life.
"What did it mean ?" she asked herself.

When Viola's father came from the postoffice, where he was a clerk, Viola ran to him joyously.

She pulled him into the parlor and sat on his knee stroking his chin and nestling her head on his bosom.

She made him tell her tales as he did when she was a child and she would laugh, but her laugh did not have its accustomed clear, golden ring.
Kissing them good night, she started up to her bed room.