"Not Isabel," said Allison, in astonishment.
"Yes," answered the girl, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "it's
Isabel."
"Why, little playmate, how did you ever dare to grow up?"
"I had nothing else to do." "But I didn't want you to grow up," he objected.
"You've grown up some yourself," she retorted.
"I suppose I have," he sighed. "What a pity that the clock won't stand still!"
Yet, to Madame, he did not seem to have changed much. He was taller, and more mature in every way, of course. She noted with satisfaction that he had gained control of his hands and feet, but he had the same boyish face, the same square, well-moulded chin, and the same nice brown eyes. Only his slender, nervous hands betrayed the violinist.
"Well, are you pleased with me?" he asked of Madame, his eyes twinkling.
"Yes," she answered with a faint flush. "If you had worn long hair and a velvet collar, I should never have forgiven you."
Colonel Kent laughed outright. "I should never have dared to bring him back to you, Francesca, if he had fallen so low. We're Americans, and please God, we'll stay Americans, won't we, lad?"