to the window and drew back the curtain. Leaning her head against the
window-sill, she began stringing on the thread of a tune the things that
just then thrilled her with a sense of their beauty.

"Oh, the locus'-trees a-blowin'," she sang, softly. "An' the moon
a-shinin' through them. An' the starlight an' pink roses; an'
Amanthis--an' Amanthis!"

She hummed it over and over until Walker had finished carrying the
dishes away.

It was a strange thing that the Colonel's unfrequent moods of tenderness
were like those warm days that they call weather-breeders.

They were sure to be followed by a change of atmosphere. This time as
the fierce rheumatic pain came back he stormed at Walker, and scolded
him for everything he did and everything he left undone.

When Maria came up to put Lloyd to bed, Fritz was tearing around the
room barking at his shadow.

"Put that dog out, M'ria!" roared the Colonel, almost crazy with its
antics. "Take it down-stairs, and put it out of the house, I say! Nobody
but a heathen would let a dog sleep in the house, anyway."

The homesick feeling began to creep over Lloyd again. She had expected
to keep Fritz in her room at night for company. But for the touch of the
little glove in her pocket, she would have said something ugly to her
grandfather when he spoke so harshly.