" His glance flashed beyond her. "Young Bunny is distinguishing
himself to-day. That was a fine effort."
Everyone was clapping except Toby who was staring before her with her
hands in her lap. Her blue eyes were very wide open, but they did not
seem to be watching the game.
"It will fly to you, _cherie_," suddenly whispered a voice in her ear.
"It is already upon the wing."
A little tremor went through her, but she did not turn her head. Only
after a moment she slipped a hand behind her through the back of her
chair.
Wiry fingers closed upon it, gripped it, let it go. "When it comes
to you, hold it fast!" came the rapid whisper. _"Il ne vient pas deux
fois--l'oiseau bleu."_
Toby's lip trembled. She bit it desperately. Her look was strained. She
did not attempt to speak.
"It is the gift of the gods, _cherie_." The words came softly at her
shoulder, but they pierced her. "We do not cast their gifts away. They
come--too seldom."
She made a quick movement; it was almost convulsive, like the start of
one suddenly awakened. A hard breath went through her, and then she was
laughing, laughing and clapping with the rest, her eyes upon the boyish,
triumphant figure in front of her.
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