"And never owned up!" chided Lanse. "You didn't want to belong to such an amateurish company?" "I did--very much," said Churchill, with emphasis. "But you needed no more violins." "If I'm to be away all next year," said Celia, quickly, "they will need you. Will you take my place?" "No, indeed, Miss Celia," the doctor answered, decidedly. "But if you would let me play--second." He looked at Charlotte, smiling. She returned his smile, but shook her head. "I'm Second Fiddle," she said. "I'll never take Celia's place." The eyes of the two sisters met, affectionately, comprehendingly. "I should like to have you, dear," said Celia, softly. But Charlotte only shook her head again, colouring beneath the glances which fell on her from all sides. "I'd rather play my old part," she answered. Jeff caught up and lifted high in the air an imaginary glass. "Here's to the orchestra!" he called out. "May Doctor Churchill read the score of the first violin. Here's to the First Violin! May she hear plenty of fine music in the old country, and come back ready to coach us all. And here's--" He paused and looked impressively round upon the company, who regarded him in turn with interested, sympathetic eyes. "I say we've called her 'Second Fiddle' long enough," he said, and hesitated, beginning to get stranded in his own eloquence. "Anyhow, if she hasn't proved this year that she's fit to play anything--dishes or wall-paper or babies--" He stopped, laughing. "I don't know how to say it, but as sure as my name's Jefferson Birch she--er--" "Hear! hear!" the captain encouraged him softly. "Here's,"--shouted the boy, "here's to the Second Violin!" Through the friendly laughter and murmurs of appreciation, Charlotte, dropping shy, happy eyes, read the real love and respect of everybody, and felt that the year's experiences had brought her a rich reward. But all she said, as Jeff, exhausted by his effort at oratory, dropped upon the grass beside her, was in his ear: "If anybody deserves a toast, Jeffy boy, I think it's you. You've eaten so many slices of mine--burnt to a cinder--and never winced! If that isn't heroism, what is?" * * * * * BOOK II THE CHURCHILL LATCH-STRING * * * * * CHAPTER I "Here's another, Charlotte!" Young Justin Birch's lusty shout rang through the house from hall to kitchen, vibrating even as far as the second-story room in the rear, where Charlotte herself happened at that moment to be. In response people appeared from everywhere. The bride-elect was the last to put in an appearance, and when she came, there was a certain reluctance in her aspect.