hey understood
how poverty-stricken their lives had been and that they were not only
enjoying the music for itself, but because it was characteristic of all
that they had left behind them. It was pathetic to hear them boast of
having read of a certain song in such a paper, and of the fact that
they knew the plot of a late comic opera and the names of those who had
played in it, and that it had or had not been acceptable to the New
York public.

"Dear me," Hope would cry, looking over her shoulder with a despairing
glance at her sister and father, "they don't even know 'Tommy Atkins'!"

It was a very happy evening for them all, foreshadowing, as it did, a
continuation of just such evenings. Young Langham was radiant with
pleasure at the good account which Clay had given of him to his father,
and Mr. Langham was gratified, and proud of the manner in which his son
and heir had conducted himself; and MacWilliams, who had never before
been taken so simply and sincerely by people of a class that he had
always held in humorous awe, felt a sudden accession of dignity, and an
unhappy fear that when they laughed at what he said, it was because its
sense was so utterly different from their point of view, and not
because they saw the humor of it. He did not know what the word "snob"
signified, and in his roughened, easy-going nature there was no touch
of false pride; but he could not help thinking how surprised his people
would be if they could see him, whom they regarded as a wanderer and
renegade on the face of the earth and the prodigal of the family, and
for that reason the best loved, leaning over a grand piano, while one
daughter of his much-revered president played comic songs for his
delectation, and the other, who according to the newspapers refused
princes daily, and who was the most wonderful creature he had ever
seen, poured out his coffee and brought it to him with her own hands.

The evening came to an end at last, and the new arrivals accompanied
their visitors to the veranda as they started to their cabin for the
night. Clay was asking Mr. Langham when he wished to visit the mines,
and the others were laughing over farewell speeches, when young Langham
startled them all by hurrying down the length of the veranda and
calling on them to follow.

"Look!" he cried, pointing down the inlet. "Here comes a man-of-war,
or a yacht. Isn't she smart-looking? What can she want here at this
hour of the night? They wo