Beverly laughingly protested that he had no voice whatever, and was sure Marjorie would want to run away the moment he began to sing, but good-naturedly yielded to his mother's request, and after striking a few preliminary chords, began in a clear tenor voice—
"'She is far from the land where the young hero lies.'"
Marjorie—who had a real love for music—was much impressed, and at the close of the ballad, begged so earnestly for more, that Beverly could not help being flattered, and his mother beamed with pleasure.
Beverly sang several more ballads, and one or two college songs, and then, after strumming idly on the piano for a moment, as if uncertain what to sing next, he suddenly broke into an air Marjorie knew.
"'In the old Mulniam pagoda,
Lookin' eastward to the sea;
There's a Burma gal a-waitin',
And I know she thinks of me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees,
And the Temple bells they say,
Come you back, you British soldier,
Come you back to Mandalay.
"'Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old flotilla lay,
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin'
From Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin' fishes play,
And the sun comes up like thunder,
Outer China 'cross the bay.'"
Marjorie turned with a start, arrested by the sound of a low, half-suppressed sob. Mrs. Randolph had covered her face with her hands, and was crying softly. At the same moment Beverly also turned, and, with an exclamation of dismay, hastily sprang to his feet, and hurried to his mother's side.
"Oh, Mother dear, I'm so sorry!" cried the boy, dropping on his knees, and trying to draw Mrs. Randolph's hands down from her face. "I never thought; it was very careless. Oh, Mother darling, please don't cry—please forgive me!"
At the sound of her son's voice, Mrs. Randolph looked up, and tried to smile through her tears.
"Never mind, dear," she said, gently, "it was very foolish of me, but that song—you know how fond she was of it."
"Yes, Mother, I know; I was a brute to have forgotten." And Beverly put his strong young arms tenderly round his mother. Mrs. Randolph laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, as if she found comfort in the touch, and then she roused herself with an effort, dried her eyes, and turned to Marjorie.