"
"I--I know what it is," stammered Helen. "You want me to let you
sing again. Please do. I love morning music--and your voice is so
tender."
"Life," said Berkeley, "is one sweet--"
"What is going on here?" demanded a voice behind them, and Mrs.
Keap came out upon the porch, eying the pair suspiciously. It was
evident that she, like Fresno, had dressed hurriedly.
"Mr. Fresno is going to sing to us," explained the younger girl,
quickly.
"Really?"
"I am like the bird that greets the morn with song," laughed the
tenor, awkwardly.
"What are you going to sing?" demanded the chaperon, still
suspiciously. "_Dearie_."
"Don't you know any other song?"
"Oh yes, but they are all sad."
"I'm getting a trifle tired of _Dearie_, let's have one of
the others." Mrs. Keap turned her eyes anxiously toward the
training-quarters, and it was patent that she had not counted
upon this encounter. Noting her lack of ease, Fresno said
hopefully:
"If you are going for a walk, I'll sing for you at some other
time."
"Is Mr. Speed up yet?"
"Up and gone.
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