s, with Father Waite, and Mr. Haynerd, and--"

"Well, no wonder you can argue! You've had practice, it seems.
But--suppose I have Hitt bring me to one of your meetings, eh?"

"Do!" cried the girl. "And bring your Reverend Pat."

The genial doctor laughed long and incontinently. "I imagine Reverend
Pat wouldn't thank you for referring to him that way," he said. "He is
a very high Anglican, and his dignity is marvelous--to say nothing of
his self-esteem. Well, we'll see, we'll see. But, don't go yet! We're
just getting acquainted."

"I must," replied the girl. "I didn't really mean to come in here, you
know. But I guess I was led, don't you?"

And when the door had closed upon her, the doctor sat silently beside
the pulseless brain of his deceased comrade and pondered long.

* * * * *

When Carmen entered the house, late that afternoon, she found the
Beaubien in conversation with Professor Williams, of the University
School of Music. That gentleman had learned through Hitt of the girl's
unusual voice, and had dropped in on his way home to ask that he might
hear and test it. With only a smile for reply, Carmen tossed her books
and hat upon the sofa and went directly to the piano, where she
launched into the weird Indian lament which had produced such an
astounding effect upon her chance visitors at the Elwin school that
day long gone, and which had been running in her thought and seeking
expression ever since her conversation with Doctor Morton a short
while before.

For a full half hour she sang, lost in the harmony that poured from
her soul. Father Waite entered, and quietly took a seat. She did not
see him. Song after song, most of them the characteristic soft
melodies of her people, and many her own simple improvisations, issued
from the absorbed girl's lips. The Beaubien rose and stole softly from
the room. Father Waite sat with his head resting on his hand, striving
to interpret the message which welled from the depths of his own
being, where hidden, unused chords were vibrating in unison with those
of this young girl.

Then, abruptly, the singing stopped, and Carmen turned and faced her
auditors. "There," she said, with a happy sigh, "that just _had_ to
come out!"

Professor Williams rose and took her hand. "Who, may I ask, was your
teacher?" he said, in a voice husky with emotion.

Carmen smiled up at him. "No human teacher," she said gently.

A look of aston