an illustration of the verses
themselves, at times brightened his gray eyes, became tremulous in
his youthful voice, and I fear occasionally incoherent on his lips. At
times, when not conscious of his affected art, the plain and all upon it
seemed to him to slip away into the night, the blazing camp fire at
his feet to wrap him in a fateful glory, and a vague devotion to
something--he knew not what--so possessed him that he communicated it,
and probably some of his own youthful delight in extravagant voice, to
his hearers, until, when he ceased with a glowing face, he was surprised
to find that the card players had deserted their camp fires and gathered
round the tent.

CHAPTER V

"You didn't say 'Stay, father, stay,' enough, Kla'uns," said Susy
critically. Then suddenly starting upright in Mrs. Peyton's lap, she
continued rapidly, "I kin dance. And sing. I kin dance High Jambooree."

"What's High Jambooree, dear?" asked Mrs. Peyton.

"You'll see. Lemme down." And Susy slipped to the ground.

The dance of High Jambooree, evidently of remote mystical African
origin, appeared to consist of three small skips to the right and
then to the left, accompanied by the holding up of very short skirts,
incessant "teetering" on the toes of small feet, the exhibition of
much bare knee and stocking, and a gurgling accompaniment of childish
laughter. Vehemently applauded, it left the little performer breathless,
but invincible and ready for fresh conquest.

"I kin sing, too," she gasped hurriedly, as if unwilling that the
applause should lapse. "I kin sing. Oh, dear! Kla'uns," piteously, "WHAT
is it I sing?"

"Ben Bolt," suggested Clarence.

"Oh, yes. Oh, don't you remember sweet Alers Ben Bolt?" began Susy, in
the same breath and the wrong key. "Sweet Alers, with hair so brown, who
wept with delight when you giv'd her a smile, and--" with knitted brows
and appealing recitative, "what's er rest of it, Kla'uns?"

"Who trembled with fear at your frown?" prompted Clarence.

"Who trembled with fear at my frown?" shrilled Susy. "I forget er rest.
Wait! I kin sing--"

"Praise God," suggested Clarence.

"Yes." Here Susy, a regular attendant in camp and prayer-meetings, was
on firmer ground.

Promptly lifting her high treble, yet with a certain acquired
deliberation, she began, "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow." At
the end of the second line the whispering and laughing ceased. A deep
voice to the right, that