wind sobbing around the house, and the rain beating against the window.  Then, he saw soldiers marching, and horses galloping, such as he had seen in pictures.  Once he was sure that he was lying on the grass beneath the shade of an old tree with the bees humming around him, and the grasshoppers playing upon their funny musical saws.  He felt angry whenever the people made a noise, and drove the pictures away.  He didn’t think of the singer now, of how she was dressed, or what she looked like, and he didn’t remember even one word she had uttered.  He hardly realised that he was in the big Opera House with the crowd of people about him.

But there was one piece, and the last, which he did remember.  It was the way the woman sang it which had such an effect.  He was sure that there were tears in her eyes.  His own were misty, anyway.  She said that she always closed with it, and it was called, “My Little Lad, God Bless Him.”  That appealed to Rod.  So this woman, then, had a little boy, and he wanted to hear what she had to say about him.  The very first words arrested his attention.

  “There’s a little lad, God bless him! 
  And he’s all the world to me;
  Guide him, Lord, through life’s long journey,
  Guard him, keep him safe to Thee.

  REFRAIN: 

    “You’re my only little laddie,
    Golden hair, and eyes of blue;
    God, who made the birds and flowers,
    Chose the best when He made you.

  “Streams may ripple, birds may carol,
  Twinkling-stars may dance and shine,
  But life’s sweetest joy and rapture
  Is to know that you are mine.

  REFRAIN: 

    “You’re my only little laddie, etc.

  “Parted, though, by time and distance,
  Hearts can never sundered be. 
  Love Divine, oh, still unite us,
  Strong to each, and strong in Thee.

  REFRAIN: 

    “You’re my only little laddie,
    Golden hair, and eyes of blue;
    God, who made the birds and flowers,
    Chose the best when He made you.”

Rod paid little heed to the storm of applause which greeted this song, and when it was repeated he did not follow the words as closely as before.  He was thinking about that boy, and wondering where he was.  He was sure that the woman was almost crying when she got through.  What made her feel so badly?  Was her boy away from her somewhere, and if she wanted him so much, why didn’t she go to see him?

At last the curtain dropped, and the concert was over.  As the people began to go out, Rod overheard what those nearest to him were saying.  They were loud in their praise of the singer.

“It was that last piece which caught me,” he heard one man say.  “It wasn’t the words so much as the way she sang it.”

“I was crying when she got through,” his companion, a woman, replied.  “I just couldn’t help it.  She’s had trouble in her life, mark my word.”