"America next?" inquired Appleton, keeping his voice as colorless as possible. "I don't know. Helena made me resign my church position in Brooklyn, and for the moment my 'career' is undecided." She laughed, but her eyes denied the mirth that her lips affirmed, and Appleton had such a sudden, illogical desire to meddle with her career, to help or hinder it, to have a hand in it at any rate, that he could hardly hold his tongue. "The Torquay concert will be charming, I hope. You know what Spalding's violin-playing is, and Donald Tovey is a young genius at piano-playing and composing. He is going to accompany me in some of his own songs, and he wants me to sing a group of American ones--Macdowell, Chadwick, Nevin, Mrs. Beach, and Margaret Lang." "I hope you'll accompany yourself in some of your own ballads!" "No, the occasion is too grand; unless they should happen to like me very much. Then I could play for myself, and sing 'Allan Water,' or 'Believe Me,' or 'Early One Morning,' or 'Barbara Allen.'" (Appleton wondered if a claque of sizable, trustworthy boys could be secured in Torquay, and under his intelligent and inspired leadership carry Miss Thomasina Tucker like a cork on the wave of success.) "Wouldn't it be lunch-time?" asked Miss Tucker, after a slight pause. "It is always time for something when I'm particularly enjoying myself," grumbled Appleton, looking at his watch. "It's not quite one o'clock. Must we go in?" "Oh, yes; we've ten minutes' walk,"--and Tommy scrambled up and began to brush sand from her skirts. "Couldn't I sit at your table--under the chaperonage of the Bishop of Bath and Wells?" And Appleton got on his feet and collected Tommy's books. The girl's laugh was full-hearted this time. "Certainly not," she said. "What does Bexley Sands know of the bishop and his interest in us? But if you can find the drawing-room utterly deserted at any time, I'll sing for you." "How about a tea-basket and a walk to Gray Rocks at four o'clock?" asked Appleton as they strolled toward the hotel. "Charming! And I love singing out of doors without accompaniment. I'm determined to earn that sovereign in course of time! Are you from New England?" "Yes; and you?" "Oh, I'm from New York. I was born in a row of brown-stone fronts, in a numbered street, twenty-five or thirty houses to a block, all exactly alike. I wonder how I've outlived my start. And you?" "In the country, bless it,--in the eastern part of Massachusetts. We had a garden and my mother and I lived in it during all the months of my life that matter. That's where the mignonette grew." "'And He planted a garden eastward in Eden,'" quoted Tommy, half to herself. "It's the only Eden I ever knew! Do you like it over here, Miss Tucker, or are you homesick now that your friend is in America?"