d gone indoors with her
cousin. His wife rose to greet him as though he had been away on a
long journey, and then, passing her arms around her schoolgirl
daughters, and nodding a mischievous dismissal to Jimmy Lent,
walked slowly into the house. Bolts were shot, keys turned; from
the lighted front parlour came the notes of the sweet-toned square
piano, and Ailsa's voice:

--"Dear are her charms to me,
Dearest her constancy,
Aileen aroon--"

"Never mind any more of that silly song!" exclaimed Celia,
imprisoning Ailsa's arms from behind.

"Youth must with time decay,
Aileen aroon,
Beauty must fade away,
Aileen aroon--"

"Don't, dear! please----"

But Ailsa sang on obstinately:

"Castles are sacked in war,
Chieftains are scattered far,
Truth is a fixed star,
Aileen aroon."

And, glancing back over her shoulder, caught her breath quickly.

"Celia! What _is_ the matter, dear?"

"Nothing. I don't like such songs--just now----"

"What songs?"

"I don't know, Ailsa; songs about war and castles. Little things
plague me. . . . There's been altogether too much talk about
war--it gets into ev'ything, somehow. I can't seem to he'p it,
somehow----"

"Why, Celia! _You_ are not worrying?"

"Not fo' myse'f, Honey-bud. Somehow, to-night--I don't know--and
Curt seemed a little anxious."

She laughed with an effort; her natural gaiety returned to buoy her
above this indefinable undercurrent of unrest.

Paige and Marye came in from the glass extension where their father
was pacing to and fro, smoking his bedtime cigar, and their mother
began her invariable running comment concerning the day's events,
rallying her children, tenderly tormenting them with their
shortcomings--undarned stockings, lessons imperfectly learned,
little household tasks neglected--she was always aware of and ready
at bedtime to point out every sin of omission.

"As fo' you, Paige, you are certainly a ve'y rare kind of
Honey-bird, and I reckon Mr. Ba'num will sho'ly catch you some day
fo' his museum. Who ever heard of a shif'less Yankee girl except
you and Marye?"

"O mother, how _can_ we mend _everything_ we tear? It's heartless
to ask us!"

"You don't have to try to mend _ev'y_thing. Fo' example, there's
Jimmy Lent's heart----"

A quick outbreak of laughter swept them--all except Paige, who
flushed furiously over her first school-girl affair.

"That poor Jimmy child came to me about it," cont