“I will go down with you,” he said, “you thought it might be the voices? What did they say to you?”

“Oh, don’t go with me. I never heed the dark.”

“Won’t you let me go with you? What did the flute say to you? Can’t you tell me?”

She laughed a little then. “It was only foolishness. I reckon the ‘Voices’ never come these days. I have heard it before, but didn’t know where it came from. It just seemed to drop down from heaven like, and this time it seemed some different, as if it might be the ‘Voices’ calling. It was pretty, suh, far away and soft — like part — of everything. My father’s playing sounded sad most times, like sweet crying,