edy, she went out into the kitchen, where
Doctor Brinkerhoff's favourite cakes, freshly made, had been carefully
put away. Only one of them had been touched, and that merely to make
sure of the quality.

With the Royal Worcester plate, generously piled with cakes, a tray of
glasses, and a decanter of Miss Field's famous port, she went back into
the parlour.

"This is very charming," said the Doctor. He had made the same speech
once a week for ten years. Aunt Peace filled the glasses, and when all
had been served, she looked at him with a rare smile upon her beautiful
old face.

Then the brim of his glass touched hers with the clear ring of crystal.
"To your good health, madam!"

"And to your prosperity," she returned. The old toast still served.

"And now, my dear Miss Iris," he said, "may we not hope for a song?"

"Which one?"

"'Annie Laurie,' if you please."

She sang the old ballad with a wealth of feeling in her deep voice, and
even Lynn, who was listening critically, was forced to admit that she
did it well.

At eleven, the guest went away, his hostess cordially inviting him to
come again.

"What a charming man," said Margaret.

"An old brick," added Lynn, with more force than elegance.

"Yes," replied Aunt Peace, concealing a yawn behind her fan, "it is a
thousand pities that he has no social position."

V

The Light of Dreams

"How do you get on with the Master?" asked Iris.

"After a fashion," answered Irving; "but I do not get on with Fraeulein
Fredrika at all. She despises me."

"She does not like many people."

"So it would seem. I have been unfortunate from the first, though I was
careful to admire 'mine crazy jug.'"

"It is the apple of her eye," laughed Iris, "it means to her just what
his Cremona means to him."

"It is a wonderful creation, and I told her so, but where in the dickens
did she get the idea?"

"Don't ask me. Did you happen to notice anything else?"

"No--only the violin. Sometimes I take my lesson in the parlour,
sometimes in the shop downstairs, or even in Herr Kaufmann's bedroom,
which opens off of it. When I come, he stops whatever he happens to be
doing, sits down, and proceeds with my education."

"On the floor," said Iris reminiscently, "she has a gold jar which
contains cat tails and grasses. It is Herr Kaufmann's silk hat, which he
used to have when he played in the famous orchestra, with the brim cut
off and plenty of gold paint put on. The g