accompaniment began,—

“Across the broad prairies he came from the west,
With fire in his eye and with brawn on his chest;
His arms they were strong and his legs they were fleet;
There was none could outstrip his vanishing feet;
We made him our captain—what else could we do?
You ask who he is? Do I hear you say, ‘Who?’”

Then they all came in on the chorus:—

“He is our Lou, he is our honey-Lou,
He is our pride and joy;
He is our Loo-loo, he is our Loo-loo,
He is our Lou-Lou boy.”

“Silly song!” exclaimed Collingwood with disgust.

“Wes made it up just this evening, at Mrs. Barclay’s,” said Dennison.
“We were all singing, and after a while Wes edged in to the piano and
sprung this on us. Don’t you think it’s a good song?”

“So good that I wish I could furnish inspiration for another,” said
Irving.

Westby joined in the laugh and looked pleased.

“Good-night, everybody,” said Collingwood; he walked away to his room.
The others followed, all except Westby, to whom Irving said,—