nd Drake handed Glory to a cab.

"We're good friends again, aren't we?" he said, touching her hand
lightly.

"Yes," she answered.

There was a letter from Aunt Rachel waiting for her at the Priory. Aunt
Anna didn't like these frequent changes, and she had no faith in music or
musicians either, but the Parson thought Anna too censorious, and as for
Mr. Koenig's Sunday evening companies, he had no doubt they were of
Germans chiefly, and that they came to talk of Martin Luther and to sing
his hymn. Sorry to say his infirmities were increasing; the burden of his
years was upon him, and he was looking feeble and old.

Glory slept little that night. On going to her room she threw up the
window and sat in front of it, that the soft night breeze might play on
her hot lips and cheeks. The moon was high and the garden was slumbering
under its gentle light. Everything around was hushed, and there was no
sound anywhere except the far-off rumble of the great city, as of the
wind in distant trees. She was thinking of a question which Drake had put
to her.

"I wonder if I should?" she murmured.

And through the silence there was the unheard melody of the German song:

Du liebes Kind, komm' geh' mit mir!
Gar schoene Spiele spiel' ich mit dir.

XIX.

"The Priory--May Day.

"Dear Aunt Rachel: The great evening is over! Such dresses, such
diamonds--you never saw the like! The smart folks are just like other
human beings, and I was not the tiniest bit afraid of them. My own part
of the programme went off pretty well, I think. Mr. Koenig had arranged
the harmonies and accompaniments of some of our old Manx songs, so I sang
Mylecharaine, and they listened and clapped, and then Ny Kiree fo
Niaghtey, and they cried (and so did I), and then I imitated some
work-girls singing in the streets, and they laughed and laughed until I
laughed too, and then they laughed because I was laughing, and we all
laughed together. It was over and done before I knew where I was, and
everybody was covering me with--well, no, not kisses, as grandfather
used to do, but the society equivalent--ices and jellies--which the
gentlemen were rushing about wildly to get for me.

"But all this is as nothing compared to what is to happen next. I mustn't
whisper a word about it yet, so false face must hide what the false heart
doth know. You'll _have_ to forgive me if I succeed, for nothing is
wicked in this world except failure, you know, and a little