And twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down
And put up my little mouth,
And sing my tiny life away
In one melodious dream.

"'I would sing about the blossoms,
And the sunshine and the sky,
And the tiny wife I mean to have,
In such a cosy nest;
And if someone came and shot me dead,
Why, then, I could but die,
With my tiny life and tiny song
Just ended at their best.'"

There was something so moving about the little song that Molly felt she
could have melted into a fountain of tears like Undine; and she was
obliged to smile and smile and pretend that her heart wasn't breaking
because her tiny life and tiny song at Wellington--her beloved
Wellington--were soon to come to an end. The Professor, too, was
stirred. He glanced once at Molly's smiling lips and tearful eyes and
blew his nose violently. Then again he contemplated the program with
great interest.

During the intermission, Molly and Will Stewart went visiting down the
aisle. Half the audience was moving about, talking to the other half,
and the hall was filled with the buzz of laughter and conversation.

"I love it! I love it!" Molly kept repeating to herself. "There couldn't
be anything more perfect than college. Oh, do I have to give it up?"

"Hey, Miss Molly!" called Andy McLean in a nearby seat, while Judy and
Nance and George Theodore Green were waving violently to her, and
Lawrence Upton was shaking hands with her and assuring her that the
dinner had been a failure because she hadn't been there. Fortunately,
Judith was well out of ear-shot behind the scenes. The Williams sisters,
from across the aisle, were calling in one voice:

"Molly, come and meet our brother John."

Margaret Wakefield, causing a sensation with her distinguished father,
and enduring the gaze of the entire audience with the calmness of one
reared in the public eye, detained her for a moment to introduce her to
the famous politician.

"A real belle," said Miss Grace Green to her brother, leaning across two
seats to speak to him, "is one who is just as popular with women as
with men, and Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky appears to be a general
favorite."

The Professor looked at his sister absently. Apparently, he hadn't heard
a word she said.

He was saying to himself:

"I think I'll let the tenor sing that little lyric that begins: 'Eyes
like the skies in summer.'"

After a while t