“Allons, Citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!” Victor’s pure tenor rose in the stirring strains of the Marseillaise, Hugh joining in with a sturdy baritone. The June wind brought the sound of the young veterans’ voices sweetly, and Tante’s eyes were moist, as she thought gratefully of what might have been. Instead, those soldier-voices might now be breathing up through the grasses of that land whose very flowers seem to sing the chant of liberty. No! There must be no more war!
Then Round Robin sang America with vim. Anne noticed that there were at least two sets of words being sung to the same melody. It is not wholly accident that makes this old tune the hymn of several great nations.
“Hooray!” shouted voices from the shore in response to America; and then the echoes woke to a rattling college yell. Hugh and Victor were coming up the path, and Doughboy scuttled barking to meet them.
“Well, it must be time for bed,” said Tante presently. “I suspect Anne Poole has found this a pretty long day, and is quite ready for sleep?”
“It has been a nice day,” said Anne simply. It might not be so bad at Round Robin, after all, she thought, crumpling up the letter in her pocket.
One more song they sang all together before they separated—their favorite song of all they knew—“America the Beautiful.”
“America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood,
From sea to shining sea!”