A moment he gazed, then hastened to seize the coveted place before a new detachment of bores arrived.
'Alice, I can't believe it--did you understand--how shall I ever thank you ?' murmured Demi, bending as if he, too, read the song, not a note or word of which did he see, however.
'Hush! not now.

I understood--I don't deserve it--we are too young, we must wait, but--I'm very proud and happy, John!' What would have happened after that tender whisper I tremble to think, if Tom Bangs had not come bustling up, with the cheerful remark: 'Music?
just the thing.

People are thinning out, and we all want a little refreshment.

My brain fairly reels with the 'ologies and 'isms I've heard discussed tonight.

Yes, give us this; sweet thing! Scotch songs are always charming.' Demi glowered; but the obtuse boy never saw it, and Alice, feeling that this would be a safe vent for sundry unruly emotions, sat down at once, and sang the song which gave her answer better than she could have done: BIDE A WEE 'The puir auld folk at home, ye mind, Are frail and failing sair; And weel I ken they'd miss me, lad, Gin I come hame nae mair.
The grist is out, the times are hard, The kine are only three; I canna leave the auld folk now.
We'd better bide a wee.
'I fear me sair they're failing baith; For when I sit apart, They talk o' Heaven so earnestly, It well nigh breaks my heart.
So, laddie, dinna urge me now, It surely winna be; I canna leave the auld folk yet.
We'd better bide a wee.' The room was very still before the first verse ended; and Alice skipped the next, fearing she could not get through; for John's eyes were on her, showing that he knew she sang for him and let the plaintive little ballad tell what her reply must be.