"What will you say when the world is dying?
What when the last wild midnight falls,
Dark, too dark for the bat to be flying
Round the ruins of old St. Paul's?
What will be last of the lights to perish?
What but the little red ring we knew,
Lighting the hands and the hearts that cherish
A fire, a fire, and a friend or two!"
CHORUS:
"Up now, answer me, tell me true.
What will be last of the stars to perish?
--The fire that lighteth a friend or two."
As the last brave verse was ended, Gordon Richardson said, "By Jove, how it comes back to me—you used to recite Poe's 'Bells' at school."
Roger laughed. "Yes. I fancy I made them boom toward the end."
"You used to make me shiver and shake in my shoes."
Aunt Frances' voice broke in crisply, "What do you mean, Gordon; were you at school with Mr. Poole?"
"Yes. St. Martin's, Aunt Frances."
The name had a magic effect upon Mrs. Clendenning; the boys of St. Martin's were of the elect.
"Poole?" she said. "Are you one of the New York Pooles?"
Roger nodded. "Yes. With a Southern grafting—my mother was a Carew."
He was glad now to tell it. Let them follow what clues they would. He was ready for them. Henceforth nothing was to be hidden.