"Not more than a fine house and servants and a greenhouse and a carriage
and horses and a _new_ piano--not more than everything you used to
have!"

"More than anything! More than anything in this world!"

He returned to the teasing.

"If he doesn't take me, I'm going to run away. You won't want ever to
see me any more. And then nobody will ever know what becomes of me
because I couldn't sing."

She strained him again to herself and murmured over him:

"My chorister! My minstrel! My life!"

"Good night and pleasant dreams!" he said, with his arms around her neck
finally. "Good night and sweet sleep!"

* * * * *

Everything was quiet. She had tipped to his bedside and stood looking at
him after slumber had carried him away from her, a little distance away.

"My heavenly guest!" she murmured. "My guest from the singing stars of
God!"

Though worn out with the strain and excitements of the day, she was not
yet ready for sleep. She must have the luxuries of consciousness; she
must tread the roomy spaces of reflection and be soothed in their