played. When Sedgwick first heard Grace sing, he sat, as he said
afterward, "in mortal terror lest wings should spread out from her white
shoulders and she should disappear through the ceiling."

In point of fact, she sang well, but she was not nearly ethereal enough
to want to give up the substantial earth to take to the ether.

But amid all the contending emotions, Sedgwick kept a furtive watch upon
the two old men. They were exceedingly gracious, but they gave Sedgwick
the impression that they were striving too hard to be agreeable.

Jack was in the seventh heaven. He tried to conceal his joy, but every
moment he would glance at Rose Jenvie with a look in his eyes which was
enough to show any miner where his bonanza was. Sedgwick was wildly
smitten, himself, but he kept his wits about him enough to watch and try
to fathom what in the bearing of the old men for some inexplainable
reason disturbed him.

When the company separated and sought their respective apartments, Jack
went to his own room, threw off his coat, put on slippers and lighted a
cigar, crossed the hall, first tapped upon the door of Sedgwick's room,
then pushed it open, walked in, closed the door, and then burst out with
"Jim, is she not a glory of the earth?"

"I think she is, indeed," was the reply. Sedgwick was thinking of Grace.

"Is there another such girl in all the world, Jim?" said Jack.

"I don't believe there is, old boy; not another one," said Sedgwick.