and went away to give
orders for an early start next morning.

Tired of talking, the girls lay down in the two little white beds
always found in German hotels, and Amy was soon continuing in sleep
the romance she had begun awake. She dreamed that the baron proved to
be the owner of the fine eyes; that he wooed and won her, and they
were floating down the river to the chime of wedding-bells.

At this rapturous climax she woke to find the air full of music, and
to see Helen standing tall and white in the moonlight that streamed in
at the open window.

"Hush, hide behind the curtains and listen; it's a serenade,"
whispered Helen, as Amy stole to her side.

Shrouded in the drapery, they leaned and listened till the song ended,
then Amy peeped; a dark group stood below; all were bareheaded, and
now seemed whispering together. Presently a single voice rose, singing
an exquisite little French canzonet, the refrain of which was a
passionate repetition of the word "_Amie_." She thought she recognized
the voice, and the sound of her own name uttered in such ardent tones
made her heart beat and her color rise, for it seemed to signify that
the serenade was for them. As the last melodious murmur ceased, there
came a stifled laugh from below, and something fell into the balcony.
Neither dared stir till the sound of departing feet reassured them;
then creeping forward Amy drew in a lovely bouquet of myrtle, roses,
and great German forget-me-nots, tied with a white ribbon and
addressed in a dashing hand to _La belle Helene_.

"Upon my life, the romance has begun in earnest," laughed Helen,
as she examined the flowers. "You are serenaded by some unknown
nightingale, and I have flowers tossed up to me in the charming old
style. Of course it is the baron, Amy."

"I hope so; but whoever it is, they are regular troubadours, and I'm
delighted. I know the gloves will bring us fun of some kind. Do you
take one and I'll take the other, and see who will find the baron
first. Isn't it odd that they knew our names?"

"Amy, the writing on this card is very like that in the big book. I
may be bewitched by this mid-summer moonlight, but it really is very
like it. Come and see."

The two charming heads bent over the card, looking all the more
charming for the dishevelled curls and braids that hung about them as
the girls laughed and whispered together in the softly brilliant light
that filled the room.

"You are right; it is the same. The