Her fine voice,
like music, held every one spellbound. Precious clasped her tiny hands
over her rose-bud ears and shivered. She shut her eyes hard and opened
them and--what nonsense! There was no queenly lady, there was no loud,
clear, ringing voice. But her ears were tingling. She turned to
Lover, trembling.
"'How--how--how funny,' she said. 'I saw a radiant woman talking, and
she fascinated all the world, and you were with her, adoring her. Her
voice was like music, but so loud, too loud; it crashed in my ears, it
deafened me.'
"Lover's brows puckered thoughtfully. 'How did she look?' he asked.
"'Tall and white, with crimson lips, and black hair massed high on her
head. And her voice was just like music.'
"The next morning Precious was ill. When Lover went to her she clung
to him and cried. 'The lovely lady,' she said,' 'she came when I was
alone, and she said I was a beautiful little doll and she would give me
music, music, a world full of music. And her voice was like a bell,
and it grew louder and louder, and I thought the world was crashing
into the stars, and I screamed and fell on the floor, and when I awoke
the music was gone, and--I was so weak and sick.'
"Lover decided to go back to Glory until Precious got over this silly
whim.
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