the threshold to say, "Please play us out with Mozart's 'Good Night.'"

"As organists play worshippers out of the church," added Mr. King.

Rosabella bowed compliance, and, as they crossed the outer threshold,
they heard the most musical of voices singing Mozart's beautiful
little melody, "Buona Notte, amato bene." The young men lingered near
the piazza till the last sounds floated away, and then they walked
forth in the moonlight,--Fitzgerald repeating the air in a subdued
whistle.

His first exclamation was, "Isn't that girl a Rose Royal?"

"She is, indeed," replied Mr. King; "and the younger sister is also
extremely fascinating."

"Yes, I thought you seemed to think so," rejoined his companion.
"Which do you prefer?"

Shy of revealing his thoughts to a stranger, Mr. King replied that
each of the sisters was so perfect in her way, the other would be
wronged by preference.

"Yes, they are both rare gems of beauty," rejoined Fitzgerald. "If I
were the Grand Bashaw, I would have them both in my harem."

The levity of the remark jarred on the feelings of his companion, who
answered, in a grave, and somewhat cold tone, "I saw nothing in the
manners of the young ladies to suggest such a disposition of them."