forced him to peep behind the curtain just in time to catch the
singer's smile.

As this is not a story of plot, suspense, or mystery, there is no
earthly use in denying that the lady in question was Miss Thomasina
Tucker, nor any sense in affirming that her appearance in Fergus
Appleton's hotel was in the nature of a dramatic coincidence, since
Americans crossing the Atlantic on the same steamer are continually
meeting in the British Isles and on the Continent.

Appleton was pleased to see the girl again because he had always liked
her face, and he was delighted to find that her voice not only
harmonized with it, but increased its charm a hundredfold. Miss Tommy
had several rather uncommon qualities in her equipment. One was that
when she sang a high note she did it without exposing any of the
avenues which led to her singing apparatus. She achieved her effects
without pain to herself or to the observer, just flinging them off as
gayly and irresponsibly as a bird on a bough, without showing any
_modus operandi_. She had tenderness also, and fire, and a sense of
humor which, while she never essayed a "comic" song, served her in
good stead in certain old ballads with an irresistibly quaint twist in
them. She made it perfectly clear that she was sorry for the poor lady
who was running around the meadow preparing her flowery bier, but the
conviction crept over you that she was secretly amused at the same
time. Appleton heard the smile in her voice before he pulled aside the
curtain and saw its counterpart on her face; heard and responded, for
when Tommy tossed a smile at you, you caught it gratefully and tossed
it back in the hope of getting a second and a third.

Another arrow in Tommy's modest quiver was the establishment of an
instantaneous intimacy between herself and her audience. The singing
of her songs was precisely like the narration of so many stories, told
so simply and directly that the most hardened critic would have his
sting removed without being aware of it. He would know that Tommy
hadn't a remarkable voice, but he would forget to mention it because
space was limited. Sometimes he would say that she was an interpreter
rather than a singer, and Tommy, for her part, was glad to be called
anything, and grateful when she wasn't brutally arraigned for the
microscopic size of her talent.

It was Tommy's captivating friendliness and the quality of her smile
that "did" for the shyest and stiffest of men, for