terest of her work.

"I am," she said, seriously. "Would you like to hear it?"

"You will wake the house up."

"And if the public expect an actress to please them," she said, saucily,
"they must take the consequences of her practising."

She went to the piano, and opened it. There was a fine courage in her
manner as she struck the chords and sang the opening lines of the gay
song:--

"'Threescore o' nobles rode up the King's ha'
But bonnie Glenogie's the flower of them a',
Wi' his milk-white steed and his bonnie black e'e.'"

--but here her voice dropped, and it was almost in a whisper that she
let the maiden of the song utter the secret wish of her heart--

"'_Glenogie, dear mither, Glenogie for me_.'

"Of course," she said, turning round to her father, and speaking in a
business-like way, though there was a spice of proud mischief in her
eyes, "There is a stumbling-block, or where would the story be! Glenogie
is poor; the mother will not let her daughter have anything to do with
him; the girl takes to her bed with the definite intention of dying."

She turned to the piano again.

"'There is, Glenogie, a letter for thee,
Oh, there is, Glenogie, a letter for thee.
The first line he looked at, a light laugh laughed he;
But ere he read through it, tears blinded his e'e.'

"How do you like the air, papa?"

Mr. White did not seem over well pleased. He was quite aware that his
daughter was a very clever young woman; and he did not know what insane
idea might have got into her head of throwing an allegory at him.

"The air," said he, coldly, "is well enough. But I hope you don't expect
an English audience to understand that doggerel Scotch."

"Glenogie understand it, any way," said she, blithely, "and naturally he
rode off at once to see his dying sweetheart.

"'Pale and wan was she, when Glenogie gaed ben,
But rosy-red grew she when Glenogie sat down.
She turned away her head, but the smile was in her e'e,
_Oh, binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee_.'"

She shut the piano.

"Isn't it charmingly simple and tender, papa?" she said, with the same
mischief in her eyes.

"I think it is foolish of you to think of exchanging that piece of
doggerel--"

"For what?" said she, standing in the middle of the room. "For this?"

And therewith she sang these lines--giving an admirable burlesque
imitation of herself, and her own gestures, and her own singi