“Perhaps,” said Marie-Celeste, far wiser than she knew, “you couldn't if you were really a great musician.” And then instantly both children stood still and motionless, for there was the familiar melody again.
“De roseate hoos of early dawn,” hummed Albert in a cunning, to-himself sort of way,
De biteness of de day,
De kimson of de sunset sky,
How fast dey fade away,”
and then the same verse through again and still again, as Dorothy was good enough to repeat the brief, sweet strain for his special delectation. It is doubtful if Albert appreciated the pathos of the lines. It was the rose hue of the sunrise and the crimson of the sunset, wedded to the lovely melody of the refrain, that brought such rapture of delight to his color-loving soul.
And now it was Marie-Celeste's turn, and the martial strain of “The Son of God goes forth to war” woke the old chapel echoes. Three times, as for Albert, the air was played effectively through, and then Miss Allyn slipped down from the organ-bench and into the nearest chair.