"Oh, help me to remember, please, please do help me!" she wailed, between hysterical sobs and gasps. "I almost remembered, and now it's all gone again. Oh, what shall I do—what shall I do?"
"You'll remember it all some time, dear, I know you will," soothed Marjorie, crying herself from pure sympathy. "Do try not to mind quite so much, Undine. I know it must be terrible, but we're all so sorry for you, and we'll try to make you happy, indeed we will."
By this time horse and rider had reached the ranch house, and Jim Hathaway, a freckled, red-haired youth, had sprung to the ground, and was regarding the scene in undisguised astonishment.
"Have you brought us any letters to-day, Jim?" Miss Graham asked, by way of relieving the situation.
"Yes'm; there's two for Mr. Graham, and some newspapers, and a magazine."
"Ask him where he learned that song," whispered Undine to Marjorie. She was still trembling, and seemed very much agitated.
"Where did you learn that song you were singing just now, Jim?" Marjorie inquired, eagerly; "the one about the 'Road to Mandalay,' you know?"
Jim looked rather vague.
"Blessed if I remember," he said. "I picked it up somewhere, but I couldn't rightly say where it was."
"Won't you please try to remember?" said Undine, lifting her tear-stained face from Marjorie's shoulder. "I want very much to know. I am trying to remember something about it, and if you could tell me where you learned it it might help me."