ity; meanwhile, there
was the obliging girl already tuning her violin and asking from her
place beside the mantel piece:

"What shall it be--when I've done squeaking this way?"

"Yankee Doodle!" "God Save the King!" cried Herbert and Melvin,
together; and immediately she began, first a strain of one, then the
other, till even the mischievous petitioners cried that they had had
enough of that medley and would be glad of a change.

One after another she played the selections asked, watching with
curiosity which all the others shared, the strange effect her music
had on Luna. The waif now seemed to consider herself entirely one of
the Party--the "Silent Partner," Danny called her; for though she
never spoke she had learned to keep close to some one or other of the
young folks, and so to avoid that big room where Dinah had placed her
earlier on her visit. She took no part in any of their games but
watched them with that vacant smile upon her wrinkled face, keeping
out of the way of being jostled by cuddling down in some corner just
as the twins did. Indeed, there was a close intimacy between the three
"uninvited"; the little ones promptly realizing that no matter how
mischievous they had been and how much they deserved punishment, they
would be unmolested in Luna's neighborhood. She paid scant attention
to them, no more than she did to anything, except gay colors and
music. She slept much of the time, and just as the twins did; cuddled
upon the floor or lounge or wherever drowsiness had overcome her. Yet
let even the faintest strain of music be heard and she would instantly
arouse, her eyes wide open and her head bent forward as one intently
listening; and the strangest part of this attraction was that she
dumbly realized the sort of melody she heard.

At the jumble of the two national airs she had smiled, then frowned,
and finally looked distressed. It was this expression upon the dull
face she watched that had made Dorothy give over that nonsense, even
more than the protests of her mates; and now as Molly begged:

"Something of your own making-up, Dolly Doodles!" she let her bow
wander idly over the strings, until a sort of rhythmic measure came to
her; fragments she knew of many compositions but bound into a sheaf,
as it were, by a theme of her own.

It was a minor, moving melody and slowly but effectually touched the
heart of every listener. Melvin leaned back in his chair and closed
his eyes, picturing to his so