the way you two looked when we were talking a
little while ago that you'd seen something out of common! Do tell me
about it, please. Do, do!"

Ninian laughed, glanced at his hostess' face, and replied:

"That's a story will keep, and you should be in bed. I don't want to
have my coming harm you when I meant it to do you good. Even such a
courageous child as you ought to sleep a great deal."

She had been courageous, indeed, and had astonished him by a coolness
and readiness of observation which would have done credit to a much
older person. He began to realize how different she was from other
children of her age, and how the hardihood of her rearing had
developed qualities that were quite unchildlike. He wondered how she
would adapt herself to the habits and thoughts of other girls of her
own age, and was not surprised that Mrs. Trent craved such society for
her. He wished that he might see her placed in some good school, yet
was doubtful if just the right one could be selected for a pupil so
different from ordinary. However, that was not his affair, and to
relieve the family of his further presence at that late hour
undoubtedly was. So he bade them all good-night and went to his room,
and very shortly afterward everybody under that roof was sound
asleep.

"Oh, what a dreamless, delicious rest I've had!" was the visitor's
waking thought. His next, that it must be very late and that he had
put his hostess to unnecessary trouble. Then he turned over "for just
one more wink" and slumbered on for another couple of hours. This time
he had dreams in plenty; and finally roused from one, of beautiful
gardens peopled by harmless "spooks," to a sound of sweet music. By
his watch he saw that it was eleven o'clock and remembered that it was
Sunday. Also, the music was that of a familiar hymn, played upon a
fine piano, which was taken up and sung by a choir of mixed voices,
from the childish treble of the two little lads to the stentorian bass
of Samson, the mighty.

Hastily dressing, Ninian slipped quietly down the stairs and entered
the sunny parlor; where Jessica motioned to a chair which had
evidently been reserved for him, and softly approached him with an
open hymn book.

It was Mrs. Trent at the piano and her rich soprano voice faultlessly
led her straggling chorus, filled for the most part by the men
grouped outside on the wide porch. He could see them through the long,
French windows, sitting or standing as each fe