"Indeed," exclaimed Steve heartily. "Well, this is pleasant."

"I should say so," returned Raymond. "I tell you, old fellow, we never
forgot that lickin' you gave us at our school--served us right and did
us good." He launched into a hilarious account of that experience
which everybody enjoyed, and there was a little pleasant, general
conversation. Then Raymond suddenly exclaimed:

"Miss Nancy, where's your banjo?" and went at once for it.

"I tell you, Steve, she can play on the old banjo and sing as no one
else ever did," he said as he returned and laid it in her lap.

Nancy turned to Steve with a quick flush which showed even in the
moonlight and protested: "I really don't know a thing about it, only
what father taught me when I was a little girl."

And Mr. Follet said excitedly, "You see, Steve, she was so lonesome
after you left I had to get the old thing down to cheer her up. I
hadn't played any on it since I was a young fellow courtin' her
mother. I don't believe I'd ever got her without that banjo," he added
and laughed with great good humour. "Nancy don't think much of it," he
went on. "She thinks it's nothin' beside the piano, but Raymond, here,
is like me, he thinks it beats the piano all hollow."

"Sing 'Robin Adair,'" put in Raymond, and Nancy began striking soft
minor chords for a little prelude. Then a rich, contralto voice, low
and clear, told the tender old story of Robin Adair and his love,
which the banjo echoed with little improvised hints of the air.
Raymond and Mr. Follet called for one song after another of the old
favourites, Raymond often joining in with a fine tenor, which
harmonized perfectly with Nancy's contralto. At last she sang of her
own accord "The Rosary."

There was an exquisite pathos in the beautiful, heart-breaking notes
that stirred Steve deeply. What depth of feeling, as well as maidenly
reserve and charm, his little Nancy had developed! The curls and
pinafores were gone, it was true, but as he watched her sweet,
expressive face in the moonlight and felt the fullness of her sympathy
and understanding in the singing, he said to himself, "I am willing to
lose them for this!"

"Miss Nancy, please don't ever sing that any more; it gives me the
shivers," said Raymond and was seconded by Mr. Follet.

"It's bedtime for old folks, anyhow," the latter went on, and added,
"I guess Steve's tired enough to go, too," and though Steve was not
ready to admit this, Raymond gave him ga