It was the night of the Masqueraders' Show. The auditorium was packed, for Annapolis was thronged with the relatives of the graduating class as well as hundreds of visitors.

Among others were Polly Howland's mother, her married sister Constance, and her brother-in-law, Harry Hunter, now an ensign. They had been married at Polly's home in Montgentian, N.J., almost a year ago. Harry Hunter had graduated from the Academy the year Happy and his class were plebes, and had been the two-striper of the company of which Wheedles was now the two-striper. His return to Annapolis with his lovely young wife was the signal for all manner of festive doings, and it need hardly be added that Mrs. Harold's party had a row of seats which commanded every corner of the stage. Mr. Stewart and Peggy were of the party, of course, and anything radiating more perfect happiness than Peggy's face that night it would have been hard to find. Was not Daddy Neil beside her, and in her private opinion the finest looking officer present? Again and again as she sat next him she slipped her hand into his to give it a rapturous little squeeze. Nor was "Daddy Neil" lacking in appreciation of the favors of the gods. The young girl sitting at his side, in spite of her modesty and utter lack of self-consciousness, was quite charming enough to make any parent's heart thrill with pride. With her exceptional tact, Mrs. Harold had won Harrison's favor, Harrison pronouncing her: "A real, born lady, more like your own ma than any one you've met up with since you lost her; SHE was one perfect lady if one ever lived."

It had been rather a delicate position for Mrs. Harold to assume, that of unauthorized guardian and counsellor to this young girl who had come into her life by such an odd chance, but Mrs. Harold seemed to be born to mother all the world, and subtly Harrison recognized the fact that Peggy was growing beyond her care and guidance, and the thousand little amenities of the social world in which she would so soon move and have her being. For more than a year this knowledge had been a source of disquietude to the good soul who for eight years had guarded her little charge so faithfully, and she had often confided to Mammy Lucy:

"That child is getting clear beyond ME. She's growin' up that fast it fair takes my breath away, and she knows more right now in five minutes than I ever knew in my whole life, though 'twouldn't never in this world do to let her suspicion it."

Consequently, once having sized up Mrs. Harold, and fully decided as the months rolled by that she "weren't no meddlesome busybody, a-trying to run things," she was only too glad to ask her advice in many instances, and Peggy's toilet this evening was one of them. Poor old Harrison had begun to find the intricacies of a young girl's toilet a trifle too complex for her, and had gone to Mrs. Harold for advice. The manner in which it was given removed any lingering vestige of doubt remaining in Harrison's soul, and tonight Peggy was a vision of girlish loveliness in a soft pink crepe meteor made with a baby waist, the round neck frilled with the softest lace, the little puffed sleeves edged with it, and a "Madam Butterfly" sash and bow of the crepe encircling her lithe waist. Her hair was drawn loosely back and tied a la pompadour with a bow of pink satin ribbon, another gathering in the rich, soft abundance of it just below the neck.

By chance she sat between Mrs. Howland and her father, Mrs. Harold was
next Mrs. Howland, with Mr. Harold, Constance and Snap just beyond, and
Polly at the very end of the seat, though why she had slipped there Mrs.
Howland could not understand.

Peggy had instantly been attracted to Mrs. Howland and had fallen in love with Constance as only a young girl can give way to her admiration for another several years her senior. But there was nothing of the foolish "crush" in her attitude: it was the wholesome admiration of a normal girl, and Constance was quick to feel it. Mrs. Howland was smaller and daintier than Mrs. Harold, though in other ways there was a striking resemblance between these two sisters. Mrs. Harold, largely as the result of having lived among people in the service, was prompt, decisive of action, and rather commanding in manner, though possessing a most tender, sympathetic heart. Mrs. Howland, whose whole life had been spent in her home, with the exception of the trips taken with her husband and children when they were young, for she had been a widow many years, had a rather retiring manner, gentle and lovable, and, as Peggy thought, altogether adorable, for her manner with Polly was tenderness itself, and Polly's love for her mother was constantly manifested in a thousand little affectionate acts. She had a little trick of running up to her and half crying, half crooning:

"Let me play cooney-kitten and get close," and then nestling her sunny head into her mother's neck, where the darker head invariably snuggled down against it and a caressing hand stroked the spun gold as a gentle voice said:

"Mother's sun-child. The little daughter who helps fill her world with light." Polly loved to hear those words and Peggy thought how dear it must be to have some claim to such a tender love and know that one meant so much to the joy and happiness of another.

Mrs. Harold had written a great deal of Peggy's history to this sister, so Mrs. Howland felt by no means a stranger to the young girl beside her, and her heart was full of sympathy when she thought of her lonely life in spite of all this world had given her of worldly goods.

Meantime the little opera opened with a dashing chorus, a ballet composed, apparently, of about fifty fetching young girls, gowned in the most up-to-date costumes, wearing large picture hats which were the envy of many a real feminine heart in the audience, and carrying green parsols with long sticks and fascinating tassles. Oh, the costumer knew his business and those dainty high-heeled French slippers seemed at least five sizes smaller than they really were as they tripped so lightly through the mazes of the ballet. But alack! the illusion was just a TRIFLE dispelled when the ballet-girls broke into a rollicking chorus, for some of those voices boomed across the auditorium with an undoubtable masculine power.

Nevertheless, the ballet was encored until the poor dancers were mopping rouge-tinged perspiration from their faces. One scene followed another in rapid order, all going off without a hitch until the curtain fell upon the first act, and during the interval and general bustle of friend greeting friend Polly and Mrs. Harold disappeared. At first, Mrs. Howland was not aware of their absence, then becoming alive to it she asked:

"Connie, dear, what has become of Aunt Janet and Polly?"

"I am sure I don't know, mother. They were here only a moment ago," answered Constance.

"I saw them go off with Happy, beating it for all they were worth toward the wings, Carissima," answered Snap, using for Mrs. Howland the name he had given her when he first met her, for this splendid big son-in-law loved her as though she were his own mother, and that love was returned in full.

"Peggy, dear, can you enlighten us?" asked Mrs. Howland looking at the girl beside her, for her lips were twitching and her eyes a-twinkle.

Peggy laughed outright, then cried contritely:

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Howland, I did not mean to be rude, but it is a secret, and such a funny one, too; I'd tell if I dared but I've promised not to breathe it."

"Run out an extra cable then, daughter," laughed Commander Stewart.

"I think this one will hold," was Mrs. Howland's prompt answer, with a little pat upon Peggy's soft arm. "She's a staunch little craft, I fancy. I won't ask a single question if I must not." A moment later the lights were lowered and the curtains were rung back. The scene drew instant applause. It was a pretty woodland with a stream flowing in the background. Grouped upon the stage in picturesque attitudes were about forty figures costumed to represent various birds, and in their midst was a charming little maiden, evidently the only human being in this bird-world, and presently it was disclosed to the audience that she was held as a hostage to these bird-beings, until the prince of their enchanted world should be released from bondage in the land of human beings and restored to them.

"Why who in this world can that little chap be?"

"I didn't know there was such a tiny midshipman in the whole brigade."

"Doesn't he make a perfectly darling girl, though?"

"Perfectly lovable, hugable and adorable," were the laughing comments.

In the dim light Peggy buried her head in Daddy Neil's lap, trying to smother her laughter.

"You—you little conspirator," he whispered. "I believe I've caught on."

"Oh, don't whisper it. Don't!" instantly begged Peggy. "Polly would never forgive me for letting out the secret."

"You haven't. I just did a little Yankee guessing, and I reckon I'm not far from the mark."

"Hush, and listen. Isn't it pretty?"

It was, indeed, pretty. The captive princess, captured because she had learned the secret of the bird language, began a little plaintive whistling call, soft, sweet, musical as a flute; the perfect notes of the hermit thrush. This was evidently the theme to be elaborated upon and the chorus took it up, led so easily, so harmoniously and so faultlessly by the dainty little figure with its bird-like notes. From the hermit-thrush's note to the liquid call of the wood-thrush, the wood-peewee, the cardinal's cheery song, the whip-poor-will's insistent questioning, on through the gamut of cat-birds, warblers, bob-whites and a dozen others, ran the pretty chorus, with its variations, the little princess' and her jailor birds' dancing and whistling completing the clever theme. When it ended the house went mad clapping, calling, shouting: "Encore! Encore!"

And before it could be satisfied the obliging actors had given their chorus and ballet five times, and the whistlers' throats were dry as powder. As they left the stage for the last time the little princess flung HERself into Mrs. Harold's arms, gasping.

"I know my whistle is smashed, destroyed, and mined beyond repair, Aunt Janet, but oh, wasn't it perfectly splendid to do it for the boys and hear that house applaud them."

"Them?" cried a feathered creature coming up to give Polly a clap upon the back as he would have given a classmate. "Them! And where the mischief do YOU come in on this show-down? There listen to that. Do you know what it means? It means come out there in front of that curtain and get what's coming to you. Come on."

"Oh, I can't! I can't! They'd recognize me and I wouldn't have them for worlds. Not for worlds! It would be perfectly awful," and Polly shrank back abashed.

"Recognized! Awful nothing! You've got to come out. It's part of the performance," and hand in hand with Happy and Wheedles the abashed little princess was led before the foot-lights to receive an ovation and enough American beauty roses to hide her in a good-sized bower. As she started back she let fall some of her posies. Instantly, Wheedles was upon his knees, his hand pressed to his heart, and his eyes dancing with fun, as he handed her the roses. Shouts and renewed applause went up from the auditorium.

"I KNOW that is a girl. I am positive of it. But WHO can she be?" was the comment of one of the ladies behind Mrs. Howland.

"Well I have an idea I might tell her name if I chose," said Mrs.
Howland under her breath to Peggy.

"Didn't she do it beautifully?" whispered Peggy, squeezing Mrs.
Howland's hand in a rapture. "But please don't tell. Please don't."

Mrs. Howland smiled down upon the eager face upraised to hers. "Do you think I am likely to?" she asked.

Peggy nodded her head in negative, but before she could say more Polly and another girl came walking down the aisle. Even Peggy looked in surprise at the newcomer, then she gave a little gasp. The girl was much taller than Polly, and rather broad shouldered for a girl, but strange to relate, looked enough like Peggy to be her twin. Mr. Stewart gave a startled exclamation and seemed about to rise from his seat. Peggy laid a detaining hand upon his and whispered: "Don't." Her father looked at her as though he did not know whether his wits or hers were departing. The play was again in progress so Polly and her companion took their seats next Mrs. Harold who had returned some minutes before. Polly was doing her best to control her laughter, but the girl with her was the very personification of decorum.

"In heaven's name who IS that girl?" Peggy's father asked in a low voice.

"He's—he's—" and Peggy broke down.

"What?"

"Yes—I'll tell you later, but isn't it too funny for words?"

"Why child she—he-ahem—that PERSON is enough like you to be your sister. Who—" and poor puzzled Neil Stewart was too bewildered to complete his sentence or follow the play.

"Yes; I've known that from the first and it is perfectly absurd," answered Peggy, "but I never realized HOW like me until this minute. But he will catch the very mischief if he is found out. But WHERE did he get those clothes? They aren't a part of the costumes so far as I know."

But there is just where Peggy's calculations fell down, for the dainty lingerie gown, with its exquisite Charlotte Corday hat had been added to the costumes to substitute others which had been ordered but could not be supplied. Consequently Peggy had not happened to see it.

And the handsome girl? Well she certainly WAS a beauty with her dark hair, perfect eyebrows, flashing dark eyes and faultless teeth. Her skin was dark but the cheeks were mantled with a wonderful color. As the play was still in progress, she could not, of course, enter into conversation with Polly's friends, but her smile was fascinating to a rare degree.

At length the second act ended, and Neil Stewart could stand it no longer.

"Peggy, introduce me to that girl right off. Why—-why, she might be you," and Peggy's father fairly mopped his brow in perturbation.

Peggy beckoned to the new arrival who managed to slip around the aisle and come to her end of the seat. If she minced with a rather affected step it was not commented upon. Most people were too fascinated by her beauty to criticise her walk. The look which the two exchanged puzzled Mr. Stewart more than ever. Peggy's lips were quivering as she said:

"Miss—er, Miss Leroux, I want you to know Mrs. Howland and my father."

"So delighted to," replied "Miss" Leroux, but at the words Mrs. Rowland gave a little gasp and Mr. Stewart who had risen to meet Peggy's friend, started as though some one had struck him, for the voice, even with Durand's best attempts to disguise it to a feminine pitch, held a quality which no girl's voice ever held.

"Well I'll be—I'll be—why you unqualified scamp, who ARE you, and what do you mean by looking so exactly like my girl here that I don't know whether I've one daughter or two?" Then Durand fled, laughing as only Durand could—with eyes, lips and an indescribable expression which made both the laugh and himself absolutely irresistible.

The following week sped away and before any one quite knew where it had gone the great June ball was a thing of the past and the morning had come which would mean the dividing of the ways for many.

Happy, Wheedles, and Shortie had graduated and would have a month's leave. Durand was now a second-classman, Ralph a youngster, and about to start upon the summer practice cruise.

The ships were to run down to Hampton Roads and then up to New London, where Mrs. Harold and all her party were to meet them, she and Mrs. Howland having taken rooms at the Griswold for the period the ships would be at New London.

They had asked Peggy to go with them and when "Daddy Neil" arrived he was included in the invitation.

But Daddy Neil had a plan or two of his own, and these plans he was not long in turning over with Mr. Harold to the satisfaction of all concerned, and they all decided that they "beat the first ones out of sight."

As Daddy Neil was a man of prompt action he was not long in carrying them into effect, and they were nothing more nor less than a big house party in New London rather than the hotel life which had been planned. So telegraph wires were kept busy, and in no time one of the Griswold cottages was at the disposal of the entire party.