"Heels," she said slowly; "I have heard of them."
"There is nothing in all the world like her," pursued the excited boy, "for her hair is of pure gold, not like the people here; and her eyes are so sweet, and her forehead so white! I never knew such people lived—why have you not told me all these years?"
"She is a blonde," replied Miss Elisabetha primly. "I, too, am a blonde, Theodore."
"But not like this, aunt. My lovely lady is like a rose."
"A subdued monotone of coloring has ever been a characteristic of our family, Theodore. But I do not quite understand your story. Who is this person, and was she alone on the beach?"
"There were others, but I did not notice them; I only looked at her."
"And she sang?"
"O aunt, so heavenly sweet—so strange, so new her song, that I was carried away up into the blue sky as if on strong wings—I seemed to float in melody. But I can not talk of it; it takes my breath away, even in thought!"
Miss Elisabetha sat perplexed.
"Was it one of our romanzas, Theodore, or a ballad?" she said, running over the list in her mind.