The young girl was tall and graceful and had a wealth of gold
yellow hair. From where he stood he could not see her face, but he
thought she could be none other than Glory Goldie. Then he knew why
he had been so blissfully happy that evening; it was just a
foretoken of the little girl's nearness. Breaking off in the middle
of his song and pushing aside all who stood in his way, he ran
toward the house.

When he reached the steps he was obliged to halt. His heart thumped
so violently it seemed ready to burst. But gradually he recovered
just enough strength to be able to proceed. Very slowly he mounted
step by step till at last he was on the porch. Then, spreading out
his arms, he whispered:

"Glory Goldie!"

Instantly the young girl turned round. It was not Glory Goldie! A
strange woman stood there, staring at him in astonishment.

Not a word could he utter, but tears sprang to his eyes; he could
not hold them back. Now he faced about and staggered down the
steps. Turning his back upon all the merriment and splendour, he
went on up the driveway.

The people kept calling for him. They wanted him to come back and
sing to them again. But he heard them not. As fast as he could go
he hurried toward the woods, where he could be alone with his grief.