Sing me a song of the mountain,
Sing of the happy and free:—
She looks at the lovely lady in the white satin gown in the great gold frame before her. How beautiful she must have been! She died when she was very young. Her husband shot himself with grief for her. She might have sung that song to him—who knows? The Child chokes and swallows her tears at the end of the song, and when she looks at Miss Salome she sees that her eyes, too, are full of tears.
“Oh, I have made you cry! I am sorry—so sorry!”
Miss Salome wipes her eyes.
“If I make my guests unhappy, they will not care to come again,” she says. “Ring for Peter, dear child.” So the Child taps the bell, and Peter comes gravely in with the beautiful silver tray, and in a flutter of delight the Child forgets the song and the picture. Miss Salome cuts the dark frosted cake, and dishes into glass plates the candied ginger, floating in syrup, and pours out cups of real tea. And the Fairy Princess is served with a banquet worthy of her dreams. Oh, to be at last in Miss Salome’s mansion!
The clock chimes for half-past five. Heaven is over. She brushes the crumbs to a little heap on her gilt-rimmed plate.
“I must go now, I think,” she says with obvious effort. Her hostess smiles.
“But you will come next week?” she asks. And the Child’s face lights up.
“Oh, yes! I’ll surely come next week, surely,” she replies with emphasis. So she goes around to Miss Salome’s chair, and the beautiful ringed hand raises her face and strokes her little freckled cheek.