"I'll help," she replied in an abstracted manner.
From the moment when Pete had brought forth the violin and handed it to Keith for the last hymn, she had not taken her eyes off of the instrument. It fascinated her, and brought back a flood of memory. She sang almost mechanically the first verse, and had begun the second.
"Mild He lays His glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born——"
Snap! went one of the strings, and the singing suddenly stopped. Keith moved close to the table and endeavored to repair the damage. As he did so the light fell upon a bright piece of metal. Constance saw it, and, with a cry, she rushed forward, and, stooping down, gazed earnestly at the small, letters engraved thereon. Then she looked around the room, as if seeking for some special person.
In her eyes was an expression which the men never forgot, and which formed the topic of conversation for nights afterward.
"When she looked at me with those beseeching eyes of hers," said one husky fellow, "I felt that I had done something wrong, and I wanted to drop right through the floor, that's what I did."
"Well, I tell you I didn't," replied the young chap whose feet had been frozen, "I just longed to be her brother, that was the way I felt."
"Wanted to be her brother!" ejaculated the other. "And what for? Ye didn't think those pretty arms would encircle yer scrawny neck, did ye, or her sweet lips touch yer rough face?"
"I only f-felt sorry for her, and wanted to comfort her," stammered the youth, blushing to the roots of his hair, at which a hearty laugh ensued at his expense.
But Constance had no thought of the pretty picture she made. It was only of Kenneth she was thinking.