"No, indeed, Miss Celia," the doctor answered, decidedly. "But if you would let me play--second."
He looked at Charlotte, smiling. She returned his smile, but shook her head. "I'm Second Fiddle," she said. "I'll never take Celia's place."
The eyes of the two sisters met, affectionately, comprehendingly.
"I should like to have you, dear," said Celia, softly.
But Charlotte only shook her head again, colouring beneath the glances which fell on her from all sides. "I'd rather play my old part," she answered.
Jeff caught up and lifted high in the air an imaginary glass.
"Here's to the orchestra!" he called out. "May Doctor Churchill read the score of the first violin. Here's to the First Violin! May she hear plenty of fine music in the old country, and come back ready to coach us all. And here's--"
He paused and looked impressively round upon the company, who regarded him in turn with interested, sympathetic eyes. "I say we've called her 'Second Fiddle' long enough," he said, and hesitated, beginning to get stranded in his own eloquence. "Anyhow, if she hasn't proved this year that she's fit to play anything--dishes or wall-paper or babies--" He stopped, laughing. "I don't know how to say it, but as sure as my name's Jefferson Birch she--er--"
"Hear! hear!" the captain encouraged him softly.
"Here's,"--shouted the boy, "here's to the Second Violin!"