reek to Jonesy. The terms puzzled him, but he enjoyed
Keith's description of the tournaments.

Several evenings after that, Keith went down to the cottage dressed in
the beautiful velvet costume of white and blue, ablaze with rhinestones
and glittering jewels. He had been wrapped in his Aunt Allison's golf
cape, and, as he threw it off, Jonesy's eyes opened wider and wider
with wonder.

"Hi! You look like a whole jeweller's window!" he cried, dazzled by the
gorgeous sight. The professor lighted another lamp, and Keith turned
slowly around, to be admired on every side like a pleased peacock.

"Of course it's all only imitation," he explained, "but it will look
just as good as the real thing behind the footlights. But you ought to
see the stage when it's fixed up to look like the Hall of the Shields,
if you want to see glitter. It's be-_yu_-tiful! Like the one at Camelot,
you know."

But Jonesy did not know, and Keith had to tell about that old castle at
Camelot, as Miss Bond had told him. How that down the side of the long
hall ran a treble range of shields,--

"And under every shield a knight was named,
For such was Arthur's custom in his hall.
When some good knight had done one noble deed
His arms were carven only, but if twain
His arms were blazoned also, but if none
The shield was blank and bare, without a sign,
Saving the name beneath."

Keith had been greatly interested in watching the carpenters fix the
stage so that it could be made to look like the Hall of the Shields in a
very few moments, when the time for that tableau should come. He knew
where every glittering shield was to hang, and every banner and
battle-axe.

"How do you suppose those knights felt," he said to Jonesy, "who saw
their shields hanging there year after year, blank and bare, because
they had never done even one noble deed? They must have been dreadfully
ashamed when the king walked by and read their names underneath, and
then looked up at the shields and saw nothing emblazoned on them or even
carved. Seems to me that I would have done something to have made me
worthy of that honour if I had _died_ for it!"

Something,--it may have been the soft, rich colour of the
jewel-broidered velvet the boy wore, or maybe the flush that rose to his
cheeks at the thrill of such noble thoughts,--something had brought an
unusual beauty into his face. As he stood there, with head held high,
his dark eyes flashing