accompaniment to one of her songs. The other little girls were
delighted and clamored for more, but she put it away quickly with
almost a frown on her sweet face, and for once in her life did not
yield to their demands.

"Well, I think more of her for that!" remarked Judith, when this
incident was repeated to her by Sylvia, who cried out, "Why, Judy, how
_hateful_ you are about poor Camilla!"

Nothing was learned about the past history of the Fingáls beyond the
fact, dropped once by the cook, that they had lived in Louisiana
before coming to La Chance, but there were rumors, based on nothing
at all, and everywhere credited, that their mother had been a
Spanish-American heiress, disinherited by her family for marrying a
Protestant. Such a romantic and picturesque element had never before
entered the lives of the Washington Street school-children. Once
a bold and insensitive little girl, itching to know more of this
story-book history, had broken the silence about Mrs. Fingál and had
asked Camilla bluntly, "Say, who _was_ your mother, anyway?" The
question had been received by Camilla with whitening lips and a
desperate silence--ended by a sudden loud burst of sobs, which tore
Sylvia's heart. "You mean, horrid thing!" she cried to the inquisitor.
"Her mother isn't dead a year yet! Camilla can't bear to talk about
her!"

Once in a great while Mr. Fingál was visible,--a bald, middle-aged man
with a white, sad face, and eyes that never smiled, although his lips
often did when he saw the clusters of admiring children hanging about
his daughters.