is there. Celeste!" she called, "come and sing for Hernando. He is lonesome."
Hernando protested, but the sight of Celeste's sweet face quieted all remonstrance. She flitted in gaily with her guitar, and Hernando would have been an exception to most of his sex had he not bowed in adoration before this beautiful creature.
Music had no charm for Granny so she left them to enjoy it by themselves.
One tiny slippered foot peeped from under Celeste's skirts and rested upon the guitar case, while her slender white fingers wandered dreamily over the strings.
"What shall I sing for you," she asked, 'something gay or something sad?"
"Anything will please me, only stop before you are tired."
"Let me see," she said with one of her rare smiles. "Hernando is a Spanish name. Now close your eyes and imagine yourself a wee boy, while I sing you to sleep."
Touching the strings gently, they responded with a rocking motion and her voice rose and
