ng
to-night. Moll ran away with the earnings, and there is no one left to
rob," she said.

"Heyday," and she ran lightly to the vase and caught up the flowers.
"Take the flowers to the bright eyes, to make them brighter." They would
at least add cheerfulness to the room where Strings lived until she
could bring something better.

As she looked at the roses, she began to realize how dear they were
becoming to herself, for they were the King's gift; and her heart beat
quickly and she touched the great red petals lovingly with her lips.

Strings took the flowers awkwardly; and, as he did so, something fell
upon the floor. He knelt and picked it up, in his eagerness letting the
roses fall.

"A ring among the flowers, Mistress Nell," he cried.

"A ring!" she exclaimed, taking the jewel quickly. Her lips pressed the
setting. "Bless his heart! A ring from his finger," she continued half
aloud. "Is it not handsome, Strings?" Her eyes sparkled brightly and
there was a triumphant smile upon her lips.

The fiddler's face, however, was grave; his eyes were on the floor.

"How many have rings like that, while others starve," he mused,
seriously.

Nell held the jewel at arm's length and watched its varying brightness
in the candle-light. "We can moralize, now we have the ring," she said,
by way of rejoinder, then broke into a ringing laugh at her own
way-of-the-world philosophizing. "Bless the giver!" she added, in a mood
of rhapsody.

She turned, only again to observe the sad countenance of Strings.
"Alack-a-day! Why do you not take the nosegay?" she asked, wonderingly;
for she herself was so very happy that she could not see why Strings too
should not be so.

"It will not feed my little ones, Mistress Nell," he answered, sadly.

Nell's heart was touched in an instant. "Too true!" she said,
sympathetically, falling on her knee and lovingly gathering up the
roses. "Flowers and Music feed naught but Love, and often then Love goes
hungry--very hungry." Her voice was so sweet and tender that it seemed
as though the old viol had caught the notes.

"Last night, Mistress Nell," said Strings, "the old fiddle played its
sweetest melody for them, but they cried as if their tiny hearts would
break. They were starving, and I had nothing but music for them."

"Starving!" Nell listened to the word as though at first she did not
realize its meaning. "What can I send?" she cried, looking about in vain
and into her tiring-room.

H