She seemed puzzled for a moment; then her eyes brightened, and she laughed; but her laugh was not like Hezekiah's. Cecilia's mirth had its own expression. It was touched with a sweet gravity, and her laughter was such as one would expect from the Milo if that divine marble were to yield to mirth. Cecilia grew upon me: there was magic in her loveliness; she was a finished product. It seemed inconceivable that she and the fair-haired girl with whom I had exchanged banter in the upland orchard were daughters of one mother. "You have given me information, Mr. Ames. I did not know that Hezekiah had ever been connected with the Asolando." "Oh, it was only that one historic day. She says the place was unbearable. She jarred the holiest chords of the divine lyre by harsh comments on the Pre-Raphaelite profile. One of the devotees was so shocked that she dropped a plate or something, and, to put it coarsely, Hezekiah got the bounce." My description of Hezekiah's brief tenure of office at the Asolando seemed to amuse Cecilia greatly. "There is no one like my sister," she said; "there never was and there never will be any one half so charming. Hezekiah is an original, who breaks all the rules and yet always sends the ball over the net. And it is because she is so inexpressibly dear and precious that I am anxious that nothing shall ever hurt her,--nothing mar the sweet, beautiful child-spirit in her." It was my turn to laugh now. Cecilia's manifestation of maternal solicitude for Hezekiah seemed absurd. For Hezekiah, in her way, was older; Hezekiah had raced with Diana and plucked arrows from her girdle; she had heard Homer at the roadside singing of Achilles' shield. "Hezekiah is reasonably safe, I should say, because she is so amazingly swift of foot and eye, and so nimble of speech. She is not to be caught in a net or tripped with a word." "I suppose that is so," remarked Cecilia soberly. "You thought her happy when you met her to-day? She did not strike you as being a girl with a wound in her heart? She was n't particularly _triste_?" "Not more so than sunlight on rippled water or the song of the lark ascending." "Of course you made no reference to Mr. Wiggins? If I had imagined you would meet her I should have"-- She ended with an embarrassment that I now understood, and I broke in cheerfully. "We did mention him. She asked me if I had seen him, and it was the thought of him that evoked her merriest laughter." She shook her head and sighed; then her manner changed abruptly. "You delivered my message to Mr. Wiggins?" "I did. He is badly out of sorts and sees nothing clearly. He is very bitter toward your aunt. He thinks she has treated him outrageously."