To you it is a rose,
To me it is my heart."
The captain knew, as the voice went on, that those barytone notes were
very fine ones--knew better than the rest, as having a wider
acquaintance with voices in general. But they all understood that it was
to no ordinary singer they were listening.
When the song ended the captain reached over and laid a brotherly arm on
Doctor Churchill's shoulder. "Welcome, friend," he said, with feeling in
his voice. "You've given the countersign."
But the doctor, although he received modestly the words of praise which
fell upon him from all about, would sing no more that day. It had been
the first time for almost three years. And "_The Sweetest Flower That
Blows_" was not only Mrs. Birch's favourite song; it had been Mrs.
Churchill's also.
"See here, Churchill," said Lanse, as the orchestra rested for a moment,
"do you play any instrument?"
"Only as a novice," admitted the doctor, with some reluctance.
"Which one?"
"The fiddle."
"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.
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