Margaret greeted them as they walked through the front door of Sarah's house.
     "Sssh," she whispered, putting her finger on her pursed lips. "Mama and Papa are talking with Uncle James and Aunt Ellen."
     Mary was puzzled, but she whispered too. "Why do we have to be quiet? Mama and Papa are always talking with Uncle James and Aunt Ellen."
     "Yes, but this is different. I don't know why. Mama just asked me to put Edward to bed and then wait out here for you. She said we should stay out of the drawing room for a bit."
     Sarah shrugged. "I'll ask Papa later. He always tells me everything."
     "Maybe." Margaret was doubtful.
     "Where should we go, while we're waiting?" Mary asked. "I'm getting hungry."
     "Aunt Ellen said we can eat without them," her sister answered. "Annette has the food ready."
     "Annette?" Sarah had started walking toward the dining room, but now she turned and stared at Margaret. "Who's Annette? Why didn't Fanny cook?"
     Margaret walked over to her.
     "Sarah," she said firmly. "Your cook's name is Annette."
     Sarah shook her head. "No, our cooks are always Fanny."
     Margaret put her hands on her hips and frowned. Mary knew that look. Her gentle sister could be pretty tough when she wanted to be!
     "She's Annette. And do you know what else? She has a son your age and a daughter almost my age, and she misses them when she is here. And," she added, her eyes flashing, "you would know that, if you ever talked to her!"
     Sarah opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything, Margaret turned to Mary.
     "Her husband was a blacksmith, just like Papa, but he got hurt, so she went to work. I've been helping her some, when Mama doesn't need me for anything. She taught me how to make cheese blintzes. Wait till you taste them!"
     Margaret opened the door to the dining room. "Let's go eat."
     Mary looked over at Sarah, who had folded her arms stubbornly. She wasn't moving toward the dining room, not an inch. Maybe she was so mad she wouldn't come.
     Mary's stomach rumbled. She really was hungry. She decided to go with her sister. She guessed Sarah would follow if she wanted to.

By the time they had finished saying grace, Sarah was at her usual place and back in charge. She even managed to dish up first.
     "When we're done here, I want to show you my big music box, Mary," she said. And then, as if she had just remembered her manners, she added, "You too, Margaret."
     Mary sat up straight. She had been wanting to see Sarah's music box for a long time. Just that morning, she had asked again, and her cousin had said, "Later."
     Margaret put down her fork. "I'd like to see it. How many tunes did you say it plays?"
     "Eight!" Sarah told her proudly. "Hurry and eat so I can show you!"
     They hurried through their meal. The cheese blintzes, as Margaret had promised, were excellent. But there was a music box waiting, and Mary could hardly wait.

When they were done eating, they made their way to the sitting room. The music box had a table all to itself. The chairs were arranged to face it around the edges of the room. Not close enough to suit Sarah, however.
     She pulled a chair up to the table. Mary remembered how far back her cousin had sat when they went together to the church service. But now she wanted to be right up close to the music box.
     Well, the music box was beautiful, no doubt. The carved wood gleamed as if it had a light of its own. Sarah opened the lid and touched something inside that Mary couldn't see.
     And then the box began to sing.
     It was even more wonderful than the music box in the store window. Its tones filled the room and Mary started dancing. Margaret laughed. She bowed to her sister, and said formally, "May I have this dance?"
     Soon Mary and Margaret were whirling around the room. Sarah frowned a little. She cleared her throat.
     "This is just the first song. You might know the second one," she said. Then she added a little crossly, "But you won't hear it if you don't sit down."
     Mary stopped dancing. She hadn't meant to make her cousin cross. She would try to make things right. She stopped dancing and moved over next to the table to hear the next song.
     As it began to play, Mary's mouth opened wide.
     "Yes," she whispered. "I do know this!"
     "I told you!" Sarah said, smugly.
     Mary didn't hear her. She was listening to the music. She turned to her sister. Her voice was still just a whisper. "Margaret! It's 'Amazing Grace'!"
     Margaret nodded, and closed her eyes. Mary guessed she was listening for the words. She could almost hear them herself. For a moment, she tried to stay sad. It had become a habit. But this was a music box! And her parents weren't there anyway.
     So Mary listened, too. Without realizing it, she began to hum along with the silvery sounds. And then, before she knew it, she was singing. And just as she had on the steamboat down the Hudson, Margaret joined in.
     As they sang, both girls looked happily at Sarah. Surely she'd sing, too?
     But Sarah wasn't at all happy. Sarah's lower lip was trembling. Her eyes were shiny with unsprung tears.
     "What's wrong, Sarah? Why aren't you singing?" Mary asked her.
     "I don't like singing!" Sarah blurted out. And now the tears came freely. "I don't want to sing! Ever!"
     Mary was astonished. She couldn't think of anything to say.
     "You're supposed to be my best friend!" Sarah was sobbing now. "But all you're doing is... you're just..."
     She paused to gulp in some air. "You've ruined my music box!"
     She turned and ran from the room, just as her parents came to the doorway. She had to push past them, but that didn't stop her.
     They all looked after her in silence for a moment. The only sound was the music box, still playing sweetly.
     Papa cleared his throat. "What happened in here, girls?"
     Mary was confused. All she could say was what she knew. "We were just listening to the music box, Papa."
     Margaret added, looking as baffled as Mary felt, "It was 'Amazing Grace.' Mary and I sang with it. And Sarah just started crying!"
     But Aunt Ellen nodded gently. "Did you invite her to sing with you?" she asked.
     Mary nodded.
     Her aunt tried to explain.
     "Your cousin has a..." She hesitated. "...a difficulty. We've tried. Heaven knows we've tried. We've paid for voice lessons from the best in the city."
     She sighed deeply.
     Uncle James was more blunt.
     "Sarah can't hold a tune," he said simply, "no matter how much she tries."
     "So she really doesn't like to sing," Aunt Ellen apologized.
     Mary felt terrible. And she started remembering. She remembered how stern Robert had been with Sarah. She remembered Margaret scolding Sarah for calling the cook Fanny. And now she had made Sarah sad, too. She was ready to cry herself.
     She forgot all about how Sarah had treated her. It didn't matter anymore. She set her jaw and ran from the room. She knew exactly what to do.
     She had to talk to Sarah.

The girls lay crosswise on Sarah's big four-poster bed. They gazed up at the canopy.
     "Are you sure?" Sarah said. Her tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving streaks. "You have to promise me, or we can't be best friends."
     "I promise," Mary said. "I won't ever ask you to sing again. And I'll make sure nobody else does either."
     "You can't tell them why, though."
     "I know. I won't."
     They lay there in silence for a while. Then Mary sat up.
     "I wonder if Papa is listening to your music box. It was still playing when we left."
     Sarah's face brightened. "Maybe that's why they were coming in."
     "Maybe," Mary answered. "And if he's listening... Oh, Sarah! Then he'll see. He'll understand we have to have one for our trip west. We just can't travel so far without music!"
     Sarah nodded, thoughtfully. "This might be just the thing. Let's go see what we can do about that."
     They scooted off the big bed. Their feet hit the floor almost at the same time, and Sarah laughed. Mary was glad to see her happy again.
     "I'll race you downstairs!" she cried, and they scrambled for the door.
     But before they reached it, they heard a knock and a voice from the other side.
     "Mary? Sarah?" It was Margaret.
     Sarah opened the door. "Yes?"
     Mary caught her breath. Margaret's eyes were red and puffy. She looked like she had been crying.
     "Come downstairs," she said softly. "There's something you need to know."

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