THE VAUGHANS: A CALIFORNIA IDYL. 
By Sarah Fenton Sanborn . 
CHAPTER VIII. 
HE Piaster Sunday dinner in the Vaughan home 
was a feast for the appetite as well as “ a feast 
of reason and flow of soul.” 
Not many mighty were chosen as guests, 
nor was the number limited to the epicurean’s 
dictum. Twice the number of the muses that hospitable 
board was sure to entertain. There you would find gath- 
ered Christ’s “little ones,” some unfortunates, the widow, 
perhaps the struggling artist, the poor curate, the unknown 
poet, the school teacher, a poor collegian or divinity stu- 
dent, and many who had been reduced from better days. 
“ Noblesse oblige ” was a maxim in the life of Madame 
Vaughan. 
Good talk there was. The society columns did not 
chronicle those dinners but they were cordials to the hun- 
gry, oases to the hopes and memories of many a life. 
When Victor was summoned to dinner he was feeding his 
pet canaries, Gratz keeping up a prodigious tail-wagging 
over his savory bone. Victor was coaxing, 
“ Sing now birdies, sing and say, 
Christ the Lord is risen to-day, 
Let your little voices ring, 
Sing sweet birdies, sing, oh sing.” 
Reluctantly the child left his birds for the dinner table, 
where he was seated by his grandmother. His father 
noticed his downcast look, and that he left his soup un- 
tasted. 
“Are you ill, my child?” he enquired, anxiously. 
“ No, Papa.” 
“Are you not hungry? ” 
