rranted attack upon the piano. Her one desire evidently was to get
inside of the instrument. With insinuating persistence she essayed an
entrance through the treble, and, being unable to effect it, fell upon
the bass, and exhausted a couple of rounds of ammunition there. The
assault on both flanks being unsuccessful, she resorted to strategy,
crossing her hands and assailing each wing of the enemy from an
unexpected quarter. When this move failed, she evidently became
incensed, and throwing aside diplomacy, rallied all her forces, charging
her artillery up to the highest note, then thundering down to the
lowest, beating down the keys as fast as they dared to rise. In the
midst of the carnage, when the clamor was at its height and victory
seemed imminent, she suddenly paused, with one hand in air and her head
gently inclined, and, tapping out two silvery bugle-notes of truce,
raised the siege.

The appalling silence that ensued might have hung above a battle-field
of slain and wounded. The captain bit his mustache.

"That wasn't exactly the one I meant," he said. "I want that little
dance-tune with the jingle to it."

Miss Gusty, disappointed and surprised at the effect which her
masterpiece had failed to produce, was insisting with flushed cheeks
that she could play no more, when the gentleman who was called Mr.
Mathews rose from the table and came toward her. His hair and pointed
beard were white, but his eyes were still young, and he looked at her
while he spoke to the captain.

"I beg your pardon, Captain," he was saying in smooth, even tones,
"can't you persuade the young lady to sing something for us?"

"I never took vocal," said Guinevere, looking at him frankly. "I'm
making a specialty of instrumental."

The gentleman looked sidewise at his companions and stroked his beard
gravely. "But you _do_ sing?" he persisted.

"Just popular music," said Guinevere. "I was going to take 'The Holy
City' and 'The Rosary' last year, but the vocal teacher got sick."

In response to a very urgent invitation, she took her seat again, and
this time sang a sentimental ditty concerning the affairs of one "Merry
Little Milly in the Month of May."

This selection met with prompt favor, and the men left their cards, and
gathered about the piano, demanding an encore.

Miss Guinevere's voice was very small, and her accompaniment very loud,
but, in her effort to please, she unconsciously became dramatic in her
expression, and f