Thou art blue as the skies, and red as the dawn, Thou art white as the noonday light; Fidelity gave thee her beautiful blue, And Piety bound thee in white. Then Faith and Fidelity went to the field Where the blood of thy heroes was shed; And there, where the sword was the breath of the Lord, They gave thee thy ribbon of red. Flag of Fidelity! Piety! Courage! Thy Blue, White, and Red We salute! The enthusiasm evoked by this _Vlaggelied_ was kept up in toast and story and song until the big clock in the hall struck seven. Then the judge and Colonel Rutgers rose; they were going to speak at a dinner given by the officers of the Third New York State Artillery, and others were going either to the theatre or to Scudder’s Museum, both of which buildings were to be brilliantly illuminated. But a few of the guests would willingly have prolonged the present pleasure, and old Samuel Van Slyck said: “Well, then, judge, too fast is your clock. There is yet one good half-hour before seven.” “No, no, Van Slyck,” answered the judge, “a Dutch clock goes always just so; you cannot make it too fast.” And to this national joke the party rose; they rose with a smile that ended in an involuntary sigh and the little laughing stir with which human beings try to hide the breaking up of a happiness. Cloaked and hooded, the majority went northward up Broadway; but quite a number went eastward to Nassau, Wall, and State streets. In this party were Madame Bloommaert and Annette, their escorts being Peter, and Leonard Murray. They were the last to leave, for they were in no great hurry; so they took leisurely farewells, and some of the women drank a cup of tea standing cloaked in the parlour. In this short postponement Leonard found the moments he had been longing for. Never had Sappha been so entrancing in his eyes, and the radiancy of her beauty had not charmed him more than the graceful generosity with which she had suffered herself to be eclipsed for the honour and pleasures of others. And, oh, how sweet he made the cup of tea he brought her, with such honeyed words of praise! And how proud and happy he was made by her answer. “If I was fair to you, dear Leonard, I have my perfect wish; for when you are not here, then all the world is nothing.” They were both happy and excited, and it is little wonder if they betrayed to Annette’s sharp eyes more than they intended. She was spending all her fascinations on her cousin Peter, but while making eyes at cousin Peter was not oblivious of her cousin Sappha. And when the festal hours were quite over and she was alone with her grandmother, she could not avoid giving utterance to her suspicions: “Grandmother,” she said, putting the tips of her fingers together and resting her chin upon them, “I have an idea.” “Well, then, what is it?”