it this afternoon when the word went around that we were going to have
supper on the water."

Then Agony came in for her share of the applause also, until the woods
echoed to the sound of cheering.

"Too bad Miss Amesbury had to miss it." Thus Agony echoed Migwan's
earlier expression of regret as she walked down the Alley arm in arm
with Migwan and Hinpoha after the first bugle. "She's been working up
there on her balcony all evening, and didn't hear a bit of the singing.
We were too far up the river."

"Couldn't we sing a bit for her?" suggested Migwan. "Serenade her, I
mean; just a few of us who are used to singing together?"

"Good idea," replied Agony enthusiastically. "Get all the Winnebagos
together and let's sing her some of our own songs, the ones we've
practicsed so much together at home. You bring your mandolin, Migs, and
tell Hinpoha to bring her guitar. Hurry, we'll have to do it fast to get
back for lights out."

Miss Amesbury, wearily finishing her evening's work, was suddenly
greeted by a burst of song from beneath her balcony; a surpassing deep,
rich alto, beautifully blended with a number of clear, pure sopranos,
accompanied by mandolin and guitar. It was a song she had not heard in
years, one which held a beautiful, tender association for her:

"I would that my love could silently
Flow in a single word--"