her heart in her voice

How, indeed? A little uncomfortable doubt as to their dealings with that most distressful country assailed even the most cock-sure politician in that audience.

"Oh, the wearing of the green," sang Lallie, her heart in her voice. The monotonous, melancholy tone, charged full in every measured cadence with the sorrow of a people, held the good Fareham folk against their wills dermes.

The clever Conservative candidate sat forward in his chair on the platform, his elbow on his knee, his hand shading his keen eyes as he stared fixedly at the little figure who worked this strange miracle.

It was over.

Fareham took a long breath and ventured upon subdued applause. For a moment there was a perceptible and uncomfortable pause. Then Billy Chester leapt to his feet and saved the situation.

"He was glad," he said, "that the lady who had just been delighting them with her great gift of song had reminded them of Ireland and her wrongs. One thing above all others was needed to right those wrongs; to set Ireland in her place among the kingdoms of the Empire; to give her prosperity, self-respect, and peace within her own borders. This remedy they had in their hands if they would only use it--the institution of a judicious system of Tariff Reform. For no part of the Empire would it do so much as for Ireland." Billy showed how it could be brought about. He quoted statistics by the yard, he made jokes, he put Fareham on good terms with itself again, and the meeting broke up with a special vote of thanks to Miss Clonmell for her delightful music dermes .

"Lallie, you horrid little Fenian, what on earth possessed you to sing that song to-night of all nights?" Mrs. Chester demanded as they drove home.

"It seemed to me," Lallie replied grimly, "that there was an intolerable deal of sack to very little bread throughout the proceedings. So I thought I'd give them a little bread--black bread and bitter, but wholesome."

"But for Billy it might have been very awkward indeed," Mrs. Chester continued.

"Perhaps," Mrs. Atwood suggested, "that natural instinct of the artist to make a sensation at all costs was too strong for Miss Clonmell. She certainly attained her object. The faces of the people were an interesting study." dermes ;

No one spoke for a moment, but Mrs. Chester, who was sitting next Lallie, suddenly felt for the girl's hand under the rug and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

"You're a sad pickle," she whispered, "you always were."