ep-toned
trio accompanied him.

"Soft o'er the fountain
Ling'ring falls the southern moon--"

The beauty of it brought a thrill to the roots of Mary's hair--brought
quick tears to her eyes--and she was wondering if Wally was right, after
all--if love (as he often told her) was indeed the one great thing of
life and nothing else mattered, when her door opened and Helen came
twittering in.

"A serenade!" she whispered excitedly. "Im-a-gine!"

She tip-toed to the window and, kneeling on the floor, watched the
singers through the curtain--knowing well it wasn't for her, but drinking
deep of the moment.

Slowly, sweetly, the chorus grew fainter--fainter--

"Nita--Juanita
Ask thy soul if we should part--"

"What do you think of that!" said Helen, leaning over and giving her
cousin a squeeze and a kiss. "He had the two Garde boys and Will Thompson
with him. I thought he was leaving earlier than usual tonight; didn't
you? But a serenade! I wonder if the others heard it, too!"

Miss Patty and Miss Cordelia had both heard it, and Helen had hardly gone
when they came pattering in--each as proud as Punch of Mary for having
caused such miracles to perform--and gleeful, too, that they had lived in
the land long enough to hear a real, live serenade. And after they had
kissed her and gone, Ma'm Maynard came in with a pretty little speech in
French. So that altogether Mary held quite a reception in bed. As one
result, her feeling toward Wally melted into something like tenderness,
and if it hadn't been for the tragic event next morning, the things which
I have to tell you might never have taken place.

"I wonder if your father heard it," said Miss Patty at the breakfast
table next morning.

"I wonder!" laughed Mary. "I think I'll run in and see."

According to his custom Josiah breakfasted early and had gone to his den
to look over his mail. Mary passed gaily through the library, but it
wasn't long before she was back at the dining room door, looking as
though she had seen a ghost.

"Come--come and look," she choked. "Something--something terrible--"

Josiah sat, half collapsed, in his chair. Before him, on the desk, lay
his mail. Some he had read. Some he would never, never read.

"He must have had a stroke," said Miss Cordelia, her arms around Mary;
and looking at her brother she whispered, "I think something upset him."

When they had sent for the doctor and had taken Mary away, they returned
to look over the le