face, her right hand being extended to the side of the window. She was
wrapped in a white robe of some kind, whilst down her shoulders fell a
twining profusion of marvellously rich hair, in a wild disorder which
proclaimed it to be only during the invisible hours of the night that
such a condition was discoverable. Her bright eyes were looking into the
grey world outside with an uncertain expression, oscillating between
courage and shyness, which, as she recognized the semicircular group of
dark forms gathered before her, transformed itself into pleasant
resolution.

Opening the window, she said lightly and warmly--"Thank you, singers,
thank you!"

Together went the window quickly and quietly, and the blind started
downward on its return to its place. Her fair forehead and eyes
vanished; her little mouth; her neck and shoulders; all of her. Then the
spot of candlelight shone nebulously as before; then it moved away.

"How pretty!" exclaimed Dick Dewy.

"If she'd been rale wexwork she couldn't ha' been comelier," said Michael
Mail.

"As near a thing to a spiritual vision as ever I wish to see!" said
tranter Dewy.

"O, sich I never, never see!" said Leaf fervently.

All the rest, after clearing their throats and adjusting their hats,
agreed that such a sight was worth singing for.