nd the
night rang with ballad and barcarole, glee and round. There never
seemed to be any limit to the Merryweather repertoire.

Presently Bell whispered to Gertrude; the latter passed the whisper on
to Margaret and Peggy. Silently all four girls rose and slipped away,
with a word breathed into Mrs. Merryweather's ear, begging her to keep
up the singing.

"Where are the girls going?" asked their father.

"They will be back in a moment," said Mrs. Merryweather. "Give us 'Prinz
Eugen,' boys; all of you together!"

And out rolled, in booming bass and silvery tenor, the glorious old camp
song of the German wars:

"Prinz Eugen, der edle Ritter,
Woll't dem Kaiser wied'rum kriegen
Stadt und Festung Belgerad."

This was a favorite song of the Merryweather boys, and they never knew
which verse to leave out, so they generally sang all nine of them. They
did so this time, and finally ended with a prolonged roar of:

"Liess ihm bringen recht zu Peterwardein."

A moment of silence followed. Indeed, none of the singers had any breath
left.

"'And silence like a poultice falls,
To heal the blows of sound!'"

quoted Mr. Merryweather. "Hark! what is that?"

Again the sound of singing was heard. This time it came from the
direction of the tents. Girl's voices, thrilling clear and sweet on the
stillness. The air was even more familiar than that of "Prinz Eugen,"
one of the sweetest airs that ever echoed to moonlight and the night:

"Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten,
Dass ich so traurig bin;"--

The girls came singing out into the moonlight, hand in hand. They were
in bathing-dress; their long hair floated over their shoulders; their
white arms shone in the white light. Instead of coming back to the
float, they plunged into the water, and swam, still singing, to a rock
that reared a great rounded back from the water. Up on this rock they
climbed, and sat them down, shaking off the water in diamond spray; and
still their voices rang out, clear and thrilling on the quiet air:

"Die schoenste Jungfrau sitzet
Dort oben wunderbar;
Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
Sie kaemmt ihr goldenes Haar."

"Gee!" muttered Gerald to himself.

"Pretty!" said Mr. Merryweather, taking his pipe from between his teeth.
"Miranda, I don't know that I ever saw anything much prettier than
that."

His wife made no reply, but her