"Yes, with special work in the engineering department, and such kind words from his higher officers in their congratulations! We had thought our cup of joy quite full when you came in; now it has overflowed."
"And mother was telling all about you and Leon when you were little," put in Camille in so oblivious a tone that Larry, catching some fun in the situation, laughed outright.
"What a giggler you are, Larry! Just like a school-boy," admonished the gypsy-maid, frowning at him. "What she said about their childish devotion was very touching, I thought, and not at all funny."
Even Madame Bonnivel joined in his hearty laugh, now, and poor Joyce, to hide her burning cheeks, broke out,
"Come, Camille, where's your mandolin? I haven't heard you play for an age. 'Do let's play and be cheerful!'"
"Just what Leon always used to say! All right, I'll give you my last serenade; it's awfully sweet. Turn down the lights, Larry. Now, you must all imagine you are on the water in Venice, and that I'm stealing by in my gondola to call up my lady, love from sleep. She's up in the tower-room of that dingy old castle yonder. Hus-sh all!"
They were silent in the dim room, but Joyce's heart was still beating hard. Would Leon be as pleased as they? She hoped they would tell him in just the right way, he was so proud, and on the dainty "tinkle-tinkle-tum" of the stringed instrument her thoughts floated outward over the broad sea, to find her childhood's mate again.