“You never saw anybody in your life that was as fullof knowledge and had less sense than old Cal. He wasadvised about all the branches of information contained inlearning， and he was up to all the rudiments of doctrinesand enlightenment. You couldn’t advance him any ideason any of the parts of speech or lines of thought. Youwould have thought he was a professor of the weather andpolitics and chemistry and natural history and the originof derivations. Any subject you brought up old Cal couldgive you an abundant synopsis of it from the Greek rootup to the time it was sacked and on the market.
“One day just after the fall shearing I rides over to theDouble-Elm with a lady’s magazine about fashions forMarilla and a scientific paper for old Cal.
“While I was tying my pony to a mesquite， out runsMarilla， ‘tickled to death’ with some news that couldn’twait.
“‘Oh， Rush，’ she says， all flushed up with esteem andgratification， ‘what do you think！ Dad’s going to buy me apiano. Ain’t it grand？ I never dreamed I’d ever have one.’
“‘It’s sure joyful，’ says I. ‘I always admired the agreeableuproar of a piano. It’ll be lots of company for you. That’smighty good of Uncle Cal to do that.’
“‘I’m all undecided，’ says Marilla， ‘between a piano andan organ. A parlour organ is nice.’
“‘Either of ’em，’ says I， ‘is first-class for mitigatingthe lack of noise around a sheep-ranch. For my part，’ Isays， ‘I shouldn’t like anything better than to ride homeof an evening and listen to a few waltzes and jigs， withsomebody about your size sitting on the piano-stool androunding up the notes.’
“‘Oh， hush about that，’ says Marilla， ‘and go on in thehouse. Dad hasn’t rode out to-day. He’s not feeling well.’
“Old Cal was inside， lying on a cot. He had a pretty badcold and cough. I stayed to supper.
“‘Going to get Marilla a piano， I hear，’ says I to him.
“‘Why， yes， something of the kind， Rush，’ says he. ‘She’sbeen hankering for music for a long spell； and I allow to fixher up with something in that line right away. The sheepsheared six pounds all round this fall； and I’m going to getMarilla an instrument if it takes the price of the whole clipto do it.’
“‘Star wayno，’ says I. ‘The little girl deserves it.’
“‘I’m going to San Antone on the last load of wool，’ saysUncle Cal， ‘and select an instrument for her myself.’
“‘Wouldn’t it be better，’ I suggests， ‘to take Marilla alongand let her pick out one that she likes？’
“I might have known that would set Uncle Cal going.
Of course， a man like him， that knew everything abouteverything， would look at that as a reflection on hisattainments.
“‘No， sir， it wouldn’t，’ says he， pulling at his whitewhiskers. ‘There ain’t a better judge of musical instrumentsin the whole world than what I am. I had an uncle，’ sayshe， ‘that was a partner in a piano-factory， and I’ve seenthousands of ’em put together. I know all about musicalinstruments from a pipe-organ to a corn-stalk fiddle.
There ain’t a man lives， sir， that can tell me any news aboutany instrument that has to be pounded， blowed， scraped，grinded， picked， or wound with a key.’
“‘You get me what you like， dad，’ says Marilla， whocouldn’t keep her feet on the floor from joy. ‘Of courseyou know what to select. I’d just as lief it was a piano or aorgan or what.’
“‘I see in St. Louis once what they call a orchestrion，’ saysUncle Cal， ‘that I judged was about the finest thing in theway of music ever invented. But there ain’t room in thishouse for one. Anyway， I imagine they’d cost a thousanddollars. I reckon something in the piano line would suitMarilla the best. She took lessons in that respect for twoyears over at Birdstail. I wouldn’t trust the buying of aninstrument to anybody else but myself. I reckon if I hadn’ttook up sheep-raising I’d have been one of the finestcomposers or piano-and-organ manufacturers in the world.’
“That was Uncle Cal’s style. But I never lost anypatience with him， on account of his thinking so muchof Marilla. And she thought just as much of him. He senther to the academy over at Birdstail for two years when ittook nearly every pound of wool to pay the expenses.
“Along about Tuesday Uncle Cal put out for San Antoneon the last wagonload of wool. Marilla’s uncle Ben， wholived in Birdstail， come over and stayed at the ranch whileUncle Cal was gone.
“It was ninety miles to San Antone， and forty to thenearest railroad-station， so Uncle Cal was gone about fourdays. I was over at the Double-Elm when he came rollingback one evening about sundown. And up there in thewagon， sure enough， was a piano or a organ—we couldn’ttell which—all wrapped up in woolsacks， with a wagonsheettied over it in case of rain. And out skips Marilla，hollering， ‘Oh， oh！’ with her eyes shining and her haira-flying. ‘Dad—dad，’ she sings out， ‘have you brought it—have you brought it？’—and it right there before her eyes， aswomen will do.
“‘Finest piano in San Antone，’ says Uncle Cal， waving hishand， proud. ‘Genuine rosewood， and the finest， loudesttone you ever listened to. I heard the storekeeper play it，and I took it on the spot and paid cash down.’
“Me and Ben and Uncle Cal and a Mexican lifted it outof the wagon and carried it in the house and set it in acorner. It was one of them upright instruments， and notvery heavy or very big.