Beauty must fade away,
Aileen aroon--"

"Don't, dear! please----"

But Ailsa sang on obstinately:

"Castles are sacked in war,
Chieftains are scattered far,
Truth is a fixed star,
Aileen aroon."

And, glancing back over her shoulder, caught her breath quickly.

"Celia! What _is_ the matter, dear?"

"Nothing. I don't like such songs--just now----"

"What songs?"

"I don't know, Ailsa; songs about war and castles. Little things
plague me. . . . There's been altogether too much talk about
war--it gets into ev'ything, somehow. I can't seem to he'p it,
somehow----"

"Why, Celia! _You_ are not worrying?"

"Not fo' myse'f, Honey-bud. Somehow, to-night--I don't know--and
Curt seemed a little anxious."