“Thou fair-haired Angel of the Evening, Now while the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love—thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed! Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes, And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon, Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide, And the lion glares through the dun forest. The fleeces of our flock are covered with Thy sacred dew; Protect them with thine influence.” Then was a brief silence; the woods were still at the moment, the two friends speechless and there was only the light lapping of the waters against the shore. “Polly O’Neill Burton, long ago I was told that Sara Bernhardt could make men and women shed tears simply by reciting the multiplication table or the alphabet. I believe you can accomplish the self-same result. I presume that you feel you have grown stale with these years of abandoning your art, yet I sincerely believe that when you return to the stage you will be the greater artist. No human being with your temperament, Polly, can have passed through the emotional experiences of the years in Europe and not be inspired by them. I am sorry for your present disappointment, sorry you must wait another year to produce the new play, yet when the time arrives I shall be prouder of you than ever!” “You are a dear, Betty. I hope you are a prophet as well, because sometimes I am afraid that my day as an artist is past. One so quickly is forgotten and I have been away from my audiences for so long a time. However, I don’t intend to be dismal. I am not permitted to be, as a matter of fact, by Aunt Patricia. At the mildest protest on my part, she is unmerciful; I suppose that is why I do my complaining to you, Betty. Was there ever such a character as Aunt Patricia? I believe she grows fiercer in manner and kinder in heart with each passing year. Her reconstruction work in France was so remarkable that the French government wished to present her with a medal of honor, which Aunt Patricia was about to refuse with scant courtesy when I induced her to allow me to write the letter of thanks at the time she declined the offer. There are moments when she is so autocratic I feel I must rebel and yet I am utterly devoted to her and under eternal obligations.” “So are we all, Polly, since she saved your life in France and may be saving it again with her care of you this winter. So don’t behave like an unruly child. You do manage to keep absurdly young, Polly. Molly, your own twin sister, and I have confessed to each other that we feel ten years your senior. Is it because you are a genius or because you have remained the guardian of the Sunrise Camp Fire girls and been with girls so much that you continue one of them?”