anding beside her harp, her white hand resting on its shining
strings.

"It is my grandmothah Amanthis," explained Lloyd in answer to the
lieutenant's question, as his gaze also rested admiringly on it. "Yes,
this is the same harp you see in the painting. Yes, I play a little. I
learned to please grandfathah."

Then, a moment later, Mary reached the crown of her evening's enjoyment,
for Lloyd, in response to many voices, took her place beside the harp
below the picture, and struck a few deep, rich chords. Then, with an
airy running accompaniment, she began the Dove Song from the play of
"The Princess Winsome:"

"Flutter and fly, flutter and fly,
Bear him my heart of gold."

It was all as Mary had imagined it would be, a hundred times in her
day-dreams, only far sweeter and more beautiful. She had not thought how
the white sleeves would fall back from the round white arms, or how her
voice would go fluttering up like a bird, sweet and crystal clear on the
last high note.

Afterward, when the guests were gone and everybody had said good night,
Mary lay awake in the pink blossom of a room which she shared with
Joyce, the same room Joyce had had at the first house-party. She was
having another good time, thinking it all over. She thought scornfully
of the woman on the sleeping-car who had told her that distance lends
enchantment, and that she must not expect too much of her promised land.
She hoped she might meet that woman again some day, so that she could
tell her that it was not only as nice as she had expected to find it,
but a hundred times nicer.

She reminded herself that she must tell Betty about her in the morning.
As she recalled one pleasant incident after another, she thought, "Now
_this_ is _life_! No wonder Lloyd is so bright and interesting when she
has been brought up in such an atmosphere."

CHAPTER VI.

THE FOX AND THE STORK

Lloyd Sherman at seventeen was a combination of all the characters her
many nicknames implied. The same imperious little ways and hasty
outbursts of temper that had won her the title of Little Colonel showed
themselves at times. But she was growing so much like the gentle maiden
of the portrait that the name "Amanthis" trembled on the old Colonel's
lips very often when he looked at her. The Tusitala ring on her finger
showed that she still kept in mind the Road of the Loving Heart, which
she was trying to leave behind her in every one's memory,