d to herself, with a sigh of resignation, and
began to sing forthwith.

Theo had clothed the idea in simple and touching words, and Hope had
seconded her with something akin to inspiration; the last few lines,
with their subtle change of key, containing an effect at once charming
and pathetic. "So to us all comes the end of the day," Bang Hope
softly--so softly that the crackle of the firewood sounded loudly in the
ears of the listeners:

"So to us all comes the end of the day.
When our playmates are lost, and our toys cast away;
Tired children of earth, when the shadows fall deep,
The Father in Heaven will grant to us--sleep!"

The pause before the last word gave to it an added emphasis, and Hope
let her hands fall on her lap with a sigh of pent-up emotion. Her eyes
were bright with unshed tears; but there were no signs of emotion in the
audience.

"How sweetly pretty!" cried Truda in the very accents which the singer
had heard in imagination.

"I say! Quite touching, isn't it?" said the youth with the fair
moustache.

There was a babel of "Thanks--thanks awfully!" and Aunt Loftus said
graciously, "You must be tired, my dear. Come and sit down. We must
really give you a rest."

For five minutes afterwards Hope was the centre of an admiring throng,
and tasted the bitter-sweet of an applause which failed to appreciate
the true merit of her work. It was pleasant enough, so far as it went,
but it left a disappointed ache behind, and she was not sorry when Truda
asserted her rights, and by means of a trick with a lead pencil, a piece
of paper, and a hand-glass succeeded once more in gathering the company
round herself.

Hope remained on the outside of the circle, a little tired after her
exertions, and thankful for a moment's breathing-space. As she stood
she became conscious of a steady gaze levelled upon her from the other
end of the room. Mr Merrilies had not taken up a position with the
other men, but was leaning against the mantelpiece, studying her face
with a grave, intent questioning. For a moment each looked deep into
the other's eyes; the rest of the figures in the room seemed to fade
away, and these two saw each other as they really were, shorn of all the
pretence and artificiality of society.

"It is true," he said to himself: "her mind is as lovely as her face.
She could not have composed that song--she could not have sung it as she
did--if she were not everything that is sweet and