But both the girl and woman suddenly became silent, for Dick Ashton had
persuaded Esther Clark to the piano and now the entire group of guests
closed in about her.
Once again she was singing the morning and evening hymn of the Camp Fire
Girls' "My Soul's Desire."
Mrs. Ashton sat listening intently with an odd expression of something
almost like relief crossing her face. "Polly dear," she whispered
unexpectedly at the close of Esther's song, "perhaps life does even
things up more justly than we know, for this strange girl, Esther Clark,
has a truly remarkable voice."
CHAPTER VII
WHITE CLOUDS
"White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep, Light mists, whose soft
embraces keep The sunshine on the bills asleep."
The sun was just rising above the crests of a group of the White
Mountains called long ago by the indians "Waumbek" because of their
snowy foreheads. But this morning, instead of shining like crystal, the
snow at their summits was opal tinted rose, yellow and violet from the
early rays of the June sun.
Sunrise Hill, standing in the foreground, seemed to catch an even
stronger reflection from the sky, for the colors drained down its sides
until they emptied into a small, wooded lake at its base.
On either side this hill the sloping lands were a soft green and the
meadows beyond golden with the new summer grain, but only fifty yards
away a grove of pine trees made a deep mass of shade, and with the birds
in their branches singing their daily matins, suggested an old cathedral
choir.
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