A girl of sixteen played a very pretty march on the piano, and moderate applause was permitted. A boy delivered "Bingen on the Rhine," and received no applause whatever; but the next boy won a little compulsory approval, led by the principal, for declaiming the Declaration of Independence. Then followed more recitation, music, and essay reading, lukewarmly received; but when the principal rose and said, "And last, we shall have a song by Zenie Malcolm," a suppressed commotion went through the school, and each boy sat straighter. The new boy started, and an unknown thrill surged from heart to brain. He seemed to know that name, but could not recall where he had heard it. The girl called to sing approached from the rear of the school, and he was too well versed in school-room etiquette to turn and look; but when she came into view, crossing the space between the front desks and the low stage, he rose half out of his seat, his eyes wide open, and the delicious thrill of recognition again tingling through him. He had known her; but where, and when? He could not remember, and sat down under the principal's disapproving frown, staring hard at the girl at the piano. She was about his age--eleven--a rather pretty child, with dark blue eyes, and a wealth of golden hair, confined only by a ribbon, and hanging loosely down her back. And she sang, in a sweet, trembling voice, a lullaby the music of which the boy seemed to know--that is, he anticipated the coming notes of the tune before they left her lips--but he could not recall where or when he had heard it. She went to her seat at the end of it, applauded by the whole school, and unaware of the silent worship of the new boy. All his life he had imagined the angels as having hair of this hue; but he had never seen it on a human being. Dark blue eyes he was familiar with; his mother had them--and the angels, too. That night he hummed the tune to his mother; but she had never heard it, and with motherly intuition advised him not to think of girls at his age, and to attend to his studies. The boy racked his brains for a few days, trying to remember where he had seen this girl and heard this song, then gave it up. Later, with a larger acquaintance among the pupils, he learned that her parents had moved from a neighboring town only a month prior to his advent in the school. Coincidence was a large word to him at his age, and meant nothing; so he remembered his emotions at first seeing her.