“No, never,” with eyes as big as saucers.
“Well, some day, Albert, I'll tell you all about her, and some other things that happened right here in St. George's. You know, about her, don't you, Miss Allyn?”
“Yes, a little—Madame La Petite Reine, I believe they called her; but tell me more, Marie-Celeste, about your steamer friend. He must, as you say, have been a queer sort of a person to tell you people didn't like him.”
“I guess it was true, though. He seemed kind of a selfish man, and looked so cross until you came to know him, that I was really very much frightened the day I knocked the book out of his hand. He isn't ever very well, and he has to keep travelling about for his health. I think that's one reason he looks cross; but he's very handsome, and papa says very aristocratic.”
“I would radcr hear about de little Queen,” remarked Albert demurely.
“Hush, dear!” said Dorothy; “I want to hear more about this Mr. ——— did you say his name was Belden, Marie-Celeste? Are you sure it was Belden?”
“Yes, sure; I have it at home in the printed list of passengers. And another queer thing about him”—for there was real pleasure in enlarging on a subject in which her listener took such undisguised interest—“was that he told me one day that he had too much money. That was funny, wasn't it? And he said he thought life was very stupid. He just seemed all out of sorts with everything, and I got him to read the 'Story of a Short Life;' I thought it would do him good, and I'm sure it did.”
“I don't know about that story, either,” said Albert aggressively, and as though such constant allusion to very interesting things was really more than could be patiently endured; but he found to his sorrow that his gentle protest seemed to make no impression whatsoever.
“I fancy it was Mr. Belden, too,” continued Marie-Celeste, as though wholly unconscious of any interruption, “who asked them to sing 'The Son of God goes forth to war' at the service in the saloon Sunday morning. I think anybody who reads the 'Story of a Short Life' must love that hymn, don't you? That's the reason I'm fond of it. Whenever I hear it I seem to see the soldiers in the church at Asholt and the V.C. out on the door-step, singing the beautiful words loud and clear, so that dear little Leonard would hear; and then the hand pulling down the curtain at the barrack master's window, so that the V.C. knew at once that the little fellow had gone to heaven at last.”
“Yes, it's a beautiful story,” said Miss Allyn thoughtfully. But meantime, matters had reached a climax in little Albert's heaving breast. If nothing was to be explained, there was no use staying any longer, and he summarily took his departure; and but for his childish reverence for the sacred place would doubtless have stamped his indignant way down the steps of the spiral stairway. Miss Allyn smiled significantly and rose to follow.