Brandon of the Engineers

Clare gave him a pleasant smile when he was presented, and after speaking

to one or two of the others she went to the piano when Kenwardine asked

her to sing. Dick, who was sitting nearest the instrument, stooped to

take a bundle of music from a cabinet she opened.

"No," she said; "you may put those down. I'm afraid we have nothing quite

so good, and perhaps it's silly, but I've fallen back on our own

composers since the fourth of August."

Dick spread out the music, to display the titles.

"These fellows have been dead some time," he argued humorously. "They'd

probably disown their descendants if they'd survived until now. But

here's a Frenchman's work. They're on our side, and his stuff is pretty

good, isn't it?"

Clare smiled.

"Yes," she said, "it's certainly good; but I'd rather sing something

English to-night."

She began a patriotic ballad Dick knew and liked. He was not much of a

musician, but his taste was good. The song rang true; it was poetry and

not warlike jingle, but he had not heard it sung so well before. Clare's

voice had been carefully trained and she used it well, but he knew that

she had grasped the spirit of the song. One or two of the men who had

been sitting got up, two young subalterns stood very stiff and straight,

but Dick noted that Kenwardine did not change his lounging attitude. He

was smiling, and Lance, glancing at him, looked amused. Dick remembered

this afterward, but he now felt that Lance was not quite showing his

usual good form.

When the song was finished, Dick turned to Clare. He wanted to begin

talking to her before anybody else came up.

"It was very fine. I don't understand the technique of music, but one

felt that you got the song just right. And then, the way you brought out

the idea!"

"That is what the mechanical part is for," she answered with a smile and

a touch of color. "As it happens, I saw an infantry brigade on the march

to-day, and watched the long line of men go by in the dust and sun.

Perhaps that helps one to understand."

"Did you see them cross the bridge?" Dick asked eagerly.

"No," she answered; and he felt absurdly disappointed. He would have

liked to think that his work had helped her to sing.

"Have you another like the first?" he asked.

"I never sing more than once," she smiled. Then as Lance and another man

came toward them, she added, glancing at an open French window: "Besides,

the room is very hot. It would be cooler in the garden."

Dick was not a man of affairs, but he was not a fool. He knew that Clare

Kenwardine was not the girl to attempt his captivation merely because he

had shown himself susceptible. She wanted him to keep the others off, and

he thought he understood this as he glanced at Lance's companion. The

fellow had a coarse, red face and looked dissipated, and even Lance's

well-bred air was somehow not so marked as usual. Well, he was willing

that she should make any use of him that she liked.