ar treble which made Gerald turn around and
stare at her in surprise.

"Why, I didn't know you could sing."

"I can't--much, only for Papa, sometimes. He's a fine singer. He
belongs to the Oratorio Society. He's one of its best tenors, takes
solos, you know. I'm very proud of Papa's voice. His being poor
doesn't keep him out of _that_ Society."

"Then he ought to get yours cultivated. You might make money that
way."

"Maybe, but money isn't much. Anyway, he hasn't the money to pay for
lessons."

"Look here. You're so smart with those detestable monks, suppose you
go on training 'em and exhibit when you get back to town? I'd let you
have 'em on trust till you could pay for them. What do you say?"

Was this the poor, timid Elsa who now faced him with flashing eyes?
Had this down-trodden "worm" actually "turned"?

"Say? What do I say? That you're the horridest boy in this whole world
and I've a mind to fling your old monkeys straight at you! I--I--"
then she sobbed, fatigue overcoming her and her wrath dying as swiftly
as it had arisen. "I--I see a house over there. We better go to it and
ask."

She was trembling now and her lame foot dragged painfully. She had
made no complaint of the long distance and the troublesome little
animals she sometimes led and sometimes carried, though Gerald had
grumbled incessantly.

Now all the best of his nature came to the front, and he had never
felt more bitterly ashamed of himself than when he realized that his
thoughtless proposition had been an insult to the afflicted, shrinking
girl. Warmed by the love and appreciation of her Water Lily friends
she "had come out of her shell" of reserve and been most happy. Now
this boy had forced her back again; to remembering that after all she
was but a very poor girl, deformed, despised, and considered simply
fit to make a mountebank of herself, going about the city streets with
apes! Oh! it was very dimly that Elsa could see the outlines of a
whitewashed cabin in the fields, because of the tears which filled her
eyes.

"Hold on, Elsa! Forgive me if you can. I'm ashamed of myself. I don't
know what makes me such a cad, I don't! You know. Except I've been
brought up to think I was a rich boy and that a rich boy can do no
harm. I could kick myself from here to Halifax. Please don't mind.
Why, you're the cleverest girl of the lot, you are, you know. Nobody
else dared tackle--"

He caught himself up sharply. Not for his life would he