Mildred went home completely overwhelmed by her master's suggestion. The public recital given every year in the Town Hall by Herr Hoffmann's best pupils was a great event, at which many of the most critical music lovers in the city were generally present. It was well known that only students of unusual talent were allowed to take solo parts. The Professor was a very celebrated teacher, and had a reputation to keep up. So far, though St. Cyprian's made a particular cult of music, and Herr Hoffmann had taught there for many years, no girl had ever been judged worthy to play at this special annual concert. It was an honour to which even their wildest ambition had not aspired. To be thus chosen out, over the heads of Ella Martin and Elizabeth Chalmers, who were considered the "show" music pupils of the school, was a prospect calculated to agitate the most sober brains. But there was another side to it. To play such an important piece as the "Frühlingslied", which needed to be accompanied by a full orchestra, was indeed an ordeal for a girl hardly sixteen years of age. A public audience in the Town Hall was a different matter from the comparatively small gatherings of parents and friends at St. Cyprian's. The mere thought of it filled Mildred with nervous horror.

"I don't believe I could ever do it, Tantie," she shivered, as she discussed the project with her aunt. "I should turn tail and run away when I saw all the people. Need I? Can't I tell the Professor I won't?"

"It would be a sad pity to do that, and would be wasting a great opportunity. When Herr Hoffmann has shown such a special interest in you, it would be most ungrateful to refuse at least to try your hardest to please him. He is the best judge of what you can do, and you may be sure that he will not allow you to play at the concert unless you have given satisfaction at the rehearsals. Both he and Miss Cartwright have taken great pains with your music, and I think you owe it to St. Cyprian's to show that their trouble has not been thrown away. You must speak about it to Miss Cartwright to-morrow, and ask her opinion."

When Mildred broached the idea next morning, she found that the Principal heartily sided with Herr Hoffmann, and even made arrangements for her to have extra time at school for violin practice. She was to be allowed to omit certain classes, and to be excused various weekly essays, and her piano studies were for the next few weeks to yield place to the instrument upon which she showed the greater talent.

"Remember you will be playing for the credit of St. Cyprian's," said Miss Cartwright. "You must work both for yourself and for the sake of the school."

When the news leaked out of the honour that was in store for Mildred, the girls received it in various ways. Ella Martin and Elizabeth Chalmers congratulated her, and urged her to do her best. Correct players themselves, they were above any narrow feelings of jealousy, and were glad to see Mildred, whom they had hitherto thought inclined to be lazy, pushed forward and made to take pains. The general opinion of her own Form was divided. Music was so decidedly of first importance at St. Cyprian's that the matter naturally made a little stir. A number of the girls did not appreciate Mildred's real talent, and gave all their admiration to Lottie Lowman's more superficial performances.

"It's absurd," said Eve Mitchell. "Why should Mildred Lancaster be chosen above everyone else? I can't see that she's so musical. She missed three questions in the harmony yesterday. Her theory's dreadfully shaky. Why isn't Lottie asked to play?"

"Well, you see, it's violin," ventured Nell Hayward.

"Then Ella Martin's our crack player. It's very unpleasant for Ella to be passed over."

"I suppose that's Professor Hoffmann's affair," said Bess Harrison, taking up the cudgels on Mildred's behalf. "He'd have asked Ella if he'd wanted her."

"Think how tremendously it will make us score in the Alliance," urged Maudie Stearne. "I don't for a moment suppose that even the High School or the Anglo-German will have a girl playing at the Professor's concert. We'll beat them there, even if they take it out of us at games."

"Lottie may be our delegate, but Mildred's our music champion just now," declared Clarice Mayfield.

"We've got to keep her at it, though," added Bess.

It was a new thing to Mildred to work diligently and painstakingly as she had done for the last few weeks. It was quite against her natural inclination, and I fear that if it had not been for the thought of what St. Cyprian's expected from her, she would never have kept it up. As it was, she felt almost astonished at her own perseverance. Time after time she was tempted not to trouble about the "Frühlingslied", but to play instead the tunes that came into her mind, and enjoy herself.

"After all, why should one fag so terribly at a thing? I hate slogging," she confided to her chum, Kitty Fletcher.

"Why? Because you owe it to yourself and the school," exclaimed Kitty. "If I'd your talent, I'd be slaving. Do you think I'd do anything in games if I didn't train? Mildred Lancaster, you've just got to try. Some day I'm going to see your name painted on the board in the lecture hall, so please don't disappoint me."

There was a large board at St. Cyprian's on which were recorded the successes of former pupils who had gained distinction either by taking university or musical degrees. To find, some time, "Mildred Lancaster" emblazoned thereon in gold letters was an attractive goal of ambition. But between the present and that rosy prospect lay a long, dreary expanse of continual effort—effort which Mildred's artistic temperament hated and shrank from, the drudgery upon which every solid achievement must be built, and without which even the cleverest of people can accomplish little.

CHAPTER VII

Wednesday was a half-holiday at the High School, so the delegates had the place to themselves. Ten smiling hostesses were waiting to receive the representatives of the other schools, and gave them a hearty welcome. When the first introductions were over, Ethel Edwards, the head girl of the High School, was voted to the chair, and, having made a few general remarks upon the object of the Alliance, proposed that each branch should withdraw to a separate classroom to discuss details for half an hour, after which they would all meet again in the lecture hall. So the schools split up their forces, and marched away in groups of twelve, representing the Musical, Literary, Dramatic, Arts, and Athletics subdivisions of the league. The delegates had all come prepared to be courteous, businesslike, and accommodating, so the thirty minutes passed in good-tempered discussion, and by the time they took their places once more in the big hall they seemed on excellent terms with one another. The results of their consultations, with probable dates, were handed to Ethel Edwards, who rapidly compared them, and drew up a final table which she put to the general vote.

"I am glad we have been able to make our arrangements fit in so well," she said, "and I hope we shall have many competitions and matches as the result of this afternoon's work. I am sure we all agree that the Alliance is an excellent movement, and that a spirit of co-operation among the principal Kirkton schools is highly desirable. Though each delegate represents her own school, all are united in representing the city, and some time in the future we may, as a body, enter into competition with similar Alliances in other towns. It certainly opens up a vista of very interesting work on our part, and should prevent those evils of narrowness and cliquishness which a too-exclusive policy is apt to develop in a school. Let us determine that our entente cordiale is for the general good, and each try our utmost to make the Alliance a huge success. I need hardly say with what pleasure the High School has to-day welcomed the other delegates, and am glad to note that our first Eisteddfod of the season is to be held here shortly. Our general secretary will forward copies of the programme to each branch secretary as speedily as possible, and due notice will of course be given of the next committee meeting."

The delegates dispersed, feeling that they had had a very satisfactory conference. Each department was pledged to something definite. The "Games" had arranged a list of cricket matches and tennis tournaments, and had even discussed plans for next autumn's hockey; the "Dramatic" had undertaken to produce a united performance in aid of the Kirkton Children's Hospital; the "Literary" was to publish a joint magazine three times a year, under the title of The Alliance Journal; the "Arts and Handicrafts" was to hold a grand exhibition in the forthcoming November, charging a small admission so as to be able to send a donation to the "Guild of Play", an organization for the children of the slums; while the "Musical", to test its capabilities, was to have an immediate general festival. In addition, the schools had promised to form a Guild of Needlework, to make garments for charities; a Christmas Santa Claus Club, to distribute toys among various Ragged Schools in the city; and a Scrap Book League, the results of which were to be sent to the Children's Ward at the Royal Infirmary.

It was part of the scheme of the Alliance that the mistresses, while reviewing and sanctioning the arrangements, should keep in the background and allow affairs to be managed as far as possible by the girls themselves. Miss Cartwright, therefore, after hearing the report of the St. Cyprian's delegates, gave full permission to the Musical Society to prepare its own programme for the forthcoming concert, which was to be in no way a public affair, but merely a friendly trial of skill amongst the six schools. Thirty members from each were to meet and compete at the High School, which possessed the largest hall. Owing to limited space it was impossible to accommodate a very big audience, but fifty guests were to be invited from each school, so as to make a fairly representative body of listeners.

The St. Cyprian's Musical Committee assembled at once under the leadership of its delegates to arrange for the important event.

"Please tell us, first of all, why the thing's to be called an Eisteddfod," begged Nora Whitehead.

Ella Martin laughed.

"You've evidently not been in Wales. Have you never heard of the great Welsh Eisteddfods, where all the famous choirs go and sing against each other for prizes?"

"Oh, a choral festival!"

"No, not quite that, because there are solos besides. In a real genuine big national Eisteddfod there are departments for painting and for poetry. They make bards, you know, and give them Bardic chairs. Well, we can't do all that in one afternoon; we have to take each branch separately, so the music's to come first. We decided that each school is to learn the part song, 'Now Cheerful Spring Returns', and to sing it one after another. Mr. Jordan, from the Freiburg College of Music, is to be asked to judge; he will give so many marks to each choir, for correctness, tone, general expression, &c. Then each school is to give a ten-minutes' concert, consisting of a few pieces by its brightest stars. These will also be judged and marked, so much for each performer. The totals will be added to the choir scores, and then we shall have the excitement of seeing which school comes out top."

"St. Cyprian's will! It must!"

"We'd better not make too sure. There are some clever girls at the Anglo-German, I hear, and the Templeton 'Choral' is good."

"What we've got to do," said Lottie Lowman, "is to learn our part song, and practise it for all we're worth. Hadn't we better decide first who's to be choir-mistress? Shall we put it to the vote?"

There was little hesitation amongst the girls. They voted almost solidly for Lottie. Since her election as delegate for the Alliance she had taken such a principal part in the musical society that everybody was ready to follow her lead. There were a few dissenting voices, who ventured to suggest that her style was not of the best, nor truly representative of the musical standard of St. Cyprian's, but these were completely overwhelmed by the majority. Lottie, who had already on her own initiative organized a choir, was surely the most fitted to look after the laurels of the school, and might be trusted to undertake the teaching of the part song. There now remained the programme of the ten-minutes' concert to be discussed.

"It's such a fearfully short time!" growled Elizabeth Chalmers.

"Of course it is," returned Lottie, "but you see six schools with ten minutes each make an hour. The part songs will take half an hour, and allowing another half-hour for judging and intervals between pieces, we get two hours, and that's the limit. No, each school has promised on its honour not to exceed the ten minutes. Indeed, we arranged that to do so would mean to be disqualified from the competition. It seemed the only fair way."

"Then we must cram all the best talent of the school into those precious ten minutes."

"That's the real state of affairs," said Ella Martin, "and we've got to make up our minds which is the best talent. I myself propose a violin solo from Mildred Lancaster."

"And I beg to object strongly!" returned Lottie Lowman. "Mildred may be a good player—I don't say she isn't—but everyone at the Coll. knows she's not to be depended upon. If she gets a nervous fit, ten to one she'll break down altogether, like she did last speech day, and then St. Cyprian's would look silly! Unless she's exactly in the right mood she doesn't do herself justice, and is the honour of the Coll. to depend on her whim of the moment? No, most emphatically, I beg you to choose a steadier, more reliable player. Who could be more suitable than Ella, who is already your musical delegate, and ought surely to represent you?"

Lottie's arguments swayed the committee so entirely that Ella was immediately chosen for the violin solo, and her name placed first on the programme.

"I shall only play a very short Prelude," she announced, "so we ought to have a piano solo and a song to make up our ten minutes. That would give a good all-round idea of the musical work at St. Cyprian's, quite as all-round as the other schools will have the opportunity for, at any rate."

After a short discussion upon the relative merits of several names which were submitted, the committee decided upon Elizabeth Chalmers for the piano solo and Lottie Lowman for the song. There was not much time to be lost, as the Eisteddfod had been fixed for a date only ten days ahead. The choir must be carefully selected and trained, and special practices arranged for. Miss Cartwright had promised to allow a short time daily during school hours for this purpose, and extra work could be done during the midday interval by those girls who stayed for dinner at the College.

"Who are your soloists?" asked Kitty Fletcher as, the meeting over, the committee sought the playground.

"Ella, Elizabeth, and your humble servant," replied Lottie.

"Do you mean to tell me Mildred Lancaster's not to play for St. Cyprian's?"

"No, Mildred's out of it altogether."

"Then all I can say is, I'm heartily sorry for the credit of the old Coll. I think you're a set of duffers!"

"Thanks! Perhaps you'll allow us to arrange your teams in the Games department, as you're so anxious to meddle in ours? We'll choose your captains and champions if you choose our soloists. It would be an admirably suitable division of labour."

Kitty turned away, for there was justice in Lottie's sarcasm. She would not have been prepared to admit any interference in the cricket or tennis programme, and she knew that she had no right to criticize the decisions of the other committees. And yet her whole sense of justice rebelled against Mildred's exclusion.

"It's monstrous!" she confided to Bess Harrison. "Here they're actually discarding their trump card! And it's nothing but Lottie's jealousy! She's green with envy because Mildred's to play at Herr Hoffmann's Students' Concert. I thought we were urged to put aside all petty feelings and spites in the interests of the Coll., and just aim to bring St. Cyprian's out top!"

"That was rubbed into us as our motto."

"We keep to it in Games, thank goodness! For some reasons I wish Miss Cartwright hadn't left the Alliance so entirely in our own hands."

"It's the same as the other schools. Neither principals nor mistresses are to regulate matters. Remember, it's a self-governing institution."

"Well, this branch of it hasn't the wit to know its own best asset," grumbled Kitty.

Mildred felt decidedly hurt to be so entirely left out of the Eisteddfod. She was not even asked to join in the part song, for Lottie, as choir-mistress, had the selection of the chorus. There was perhaps reason in this, for Mildred, though she always sang in tune, did not possess a very strong voice. All the same, it was a marked omission, and an intentional slight.

Lottie, as grand vizier of the proceedings, was now in her element. She assumed such complete direction of everything that she even took precedence of Ella Martin. Ella, though a monitress, never pushed her authority, and indeed was sometimes hardly self-assertive enough for her post. On the present occasion she allowed Lottie to seize the reins rather too easily. The matter was discussed by her fellow monitresses.

"A Fifth Form girl ought not to be allowed to run the whole show," said Hilda Smith. "Ella ought to put her foot down!"

"Lottie's getting swollen head!" agreed Gertie Raeburn.

If Lottie's motives were mixed, to do her justice she certainly worked very hard in her new capacity as choir-mistress. She was as zealous as a Parliamentary whip in making her chorus attend practices, and drilling them while they were there. Most of the girls found her a harder taskmaster than Mr. Hiller, the singing teacher, and she indulged in a running fire of comments on their performance completely at variance with his suave suggestions.

"Now then, heads up!" she would say. "You all stand with your noses in your books like a set of dolls that have lost their saw-dust! We'll take that verse again, and put a little more spirit into it. Can't you sing louder? I suppose you've learnt that cres. stands for crescendo? Then please remember that the signs mean something, and don't drone away like a set of Buddhist lamas intoning a chant!"

And the girls would laugh, for they rather enjoyed her racy remarks, even though they were delivered at their expense. Lottie, in the flush of her popularity, could not resist pressing her triumph over Mildred. She invited her to a practice one day, and enjoyed showing her authority over her pupils before her rival. Having exhibited their docility to her utmost satisfaction, she dismissed them, and turned carelessly to Mildred.

"Not such a bad little business for a beginning!" she remarked. "The Coll. will take its right place at the Eisteddfod, I fancy."

"I hope so, I'm sure," returned Mildred, without enthusiasm.

"Oh, you'll see it'll come out top side! Now tell me candidly what you think of this part song."

"Do you really want my candid opinion?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then I think everything's wrong with it. In the first place, the second sopranos are out of tune continually. You hurry the time too much in the middle, and drag it towards the end, and when you urge the girls to sing crescendo, you let them shout in the most atrocious fashion—like street-singers! There's nothing artistic about it at all."

"I might have known you'd be sure to find fault!" sneered Lottie. "It's very easy to pick holes in other folk's work. No doubt the high and mighty Mildred Lancaster would have made a most superior business of it! People always think if they'd had the reins they could have driven the kicking horse!"

"You asked for my candid opinion!" retorted Mildred.

"I didn't say I'd follow it, though. Fortunately I'm the choir-mistress, and not you."

It happened that Ella Martin and a few more Sixth Form girls had come into the room during this colloquy, and Ella now put in her oar.

"There's a good deal in what Mildred says, Lottie," she observed. "I noticed yesterday that the second sopranos were out of tune; and you certainly let them shout too loud. They're not using their voices properly. It's dreadfully second-rate style. I was going to speak to you about it. It doesn't do credit to the Coll."

"We've all noticed it," urged Dorrie Barlow.

"The quality of the voices will be a point before the judge," said Kathleen Hodson. "Mr. Hiller is so particular on that score."

"Well, if this is all the thanks I get for my trouble, I wish I'd kept out of the musical society," responded Lottie, with a red patch in each cheek and a gleam of temper in her hazel eyes. "No doubt you'd all have done it better yourselves."

"No, don't say that," replied Ella. "You must allow that I, at any rate, have the right to criticize. We all appreciate your hard work, only we want it to be in the right direction, and not thrown away. St. Cyprian's has a big reputation to keep up. Suppose you just think over what we've suggested."

Lottie turned away rather huffily. She could not help acknowledging Ella's right to interfere, but she was annoyed that the rebuke should be given in Mildred's presence. She was at first inclined to stick to her guns, then apparently she thought better of it, took her chorus in hand, and remedied their very palpable shortcomings. Ella, realizing her responsibilities, made opportunity to drop in during rehearsals, so as to keep a check upon things, and thanks to her influence the part song soon began to show marked improvement, and to be more worthy of St. Cyprian's musical reputation.

Though Mildred was not included among the performers, she at least received an invitation to the Eisteddfod. The guests were to start all together from the College, and they looked forward to the event with considerable keenness. On the day of the festival those who stayed to dinner at school spent the interval discussing the occasion. Olwen and Megan Roberts, who boasted Welsh ancestry, and had been present at a real Eisteddfod in the Principality, scored by their superior knowledge.

"Of course it can't be anything like what we had at Llanfairdisiliogoch!" they bragged.

"Oh, no! Nothing's right out of Welsh Wales!" laughed Maggie Orton. "You've often told us that!"

"I know a lovely song about an Eisteddfod," chirruped Bess Harrison, and to the tune of "The Ash Grove" she began:

At that point she wisely dodged away; and Olwen and Megan, giving chase, pursued her round the playground, where she ran, still chanting tauntingly:

till the twins at length caught her up, and administered summary justice in revenge for the slight on their nationality.

Punctually at two o'clock those who had been chosen to attend the Eisteddfod set out for the High School. The performers were ushered into special rooms reserved for them, and the others were given seats with the rest of the audience in the large hall. Miss Stewart, the Head-mistress, took her place on the platform, together with the Principals of the other five schools and Mr. Jordan, from the Freiburg College of Music, who was to act as judge. No time was to be lost if the whole of the programme was to be carried through, so the choral competition began at once. Lots had to be drawn as to the order in which the schools should sing, and the Anglo-German had secured the first innings. Their chorus accordingly took its place on the platform and commenced the test piece. They did well, and as they retired to make room for Newington Green, the second on the list, the St. Cyprian's contingent acknowledged to themselves that the Alliance contained formidable rivals. To anybody unaccustomed to festival singing it was extremely confusing to hear one choir after another render the same part song, but Mr. Jordan was no novice at his task, and well knew how to appraise their merits. He sat with paper and pencil, jotting down their respective points as to time, tune, tone and quality of voice, expression and general spirit, so many marks to each, and appeared as calm and collected and unmoved as if he were valuing goods for an auction.

"He doesn't show the least enthusiasm," whispered Mildred to Kitty, who sat next to her. "If it had been the Professor who was judging, he'd have been hopping about the platform."

"I suppose it's Mr. Jordan's rôle to look quite disinterested and impartial," returned Kitty.

St. Cyprian's was last on the list, and perhaps even Lottie congratulated herself that she had taken Ella's advice and improved the standard of her chorus, for the other schools had sung so well that the College would have to look to its laurels. She hastily whispered a few last directions as they took their places, and perhaps for the first time in her life felt a tremor of nervousness as they broke into the opening bars of "Now Cheerful Spring Returns". Fortunately the girls had remembered their instructions; the second sopranos kept well up to pitch, the time did not drag, and the crescendo passage was rendered with due regard to tone. Lottie breathed more freely when it was over. She cast an enquiring look at Mr. Jordan, but his expression was inscrutable. He merely jotted down some figures, and gave the signal of dismissal.

After this followed the series of ten-minutes' concerts, in which each school exhibited its best stars. It was of course an extremely short limit, but it was wonderful how much was accomplished in the time. The Anglo-German had concentrated all its energies on two brilliant pianoforte pieces, Marston Grove High School boasted a girl with a remarkably rich and strong contralto voice, Templeton had quite a fair violin solo, the High School scored at a piano duet, and Newington Green School had for champion a girl of about fourteen who played the violoncello. St. Cyprian's, with its piano, violin, and vocal solos, was felt to have given a very all-sided performance. Ella played brilliantly, if coldly; Elizabeth Chalmers's nocturne was correct to a note; and Lottie sang the rather sentimental ballad she had chosen with much expression and display of feeling. Her confidence stood her in good stead, for the Marston Grove contralto had been palpably nervous, and had almost broken down at one point.

Mr. Jordan rapidly added up the marks gained by each school, putting chorus and concert scores both together. Then, rising, he announced the results:

Out of a maximum of 280 marks:

The St. Cyprian's girls felt just a little crest-fallen. They had won, to be sure, but it was by a very narrow majority. They had not scored quite the signal success which, considering the amount of time that the College devoted to music study, might reasonably have been anticipated. There were no prizes given for the competition, so as it was now long past four o'clock, the Eisteddfod broke up, and the audience was dismissed. As the girls filed from the hall, the various schools mingled in the corridor. Kitty Fletcher and Bess Harrison happened to be walking behind two Newington Green girls, and overheard an interesting scrap of conversation.

"Well, what did you think of the famous St. Cyprian's?"

"Nothing up to what I'd expected. I'd heard they were so A1."

"So had I, but after all they weren't much better than the rest of us. That fair girl played the piano like a pianola! She put no expression into it."

"And the one who sang was vibrato all the time. I thought her rather claptrap!"

"As for the violin, it was brilliant, and good bowing, but it didn't appeal to me like Althea's 'cello."

"I thought they were supposed to have such a crack violin player at St. Cyprian's—Herr Hoffmann's pet pupil at present, so they say."

"Well, if this was the girl, I don't admire her. I should say she's very much overrated."

Kitty clutched Bess Harrison's arm close in her indignation. As soon as they were outside the school she exploded.

"Oh, to think they never heard Mildred! And they actually imagine Ella Martin's our crack player! It's wicked! It was suicidal for St. Cyprian's not to put Mildred on. I can't imagine what the committee was doing."

"The committee was swayed by Lottie," returned Bess, "and I don't think it has altogether good reason to congratulate itself on the results. Undoubtedly St. Cyprian's ought to have done better, and it will have to look hard after its reputation in future."

"I shall play up at the cricket match, or I'll never touch a bat again!" vowed Kitty. "Nulli secundus—second to none! We've got to live up to our school motto."

CHAPTER VIII

Mildred had put her own address on the manuscripts as secretary of the syndicate, and every day she looked hopefully at the letters which were delivered at Meredith Terrace. One morning she arrived at school in a state of unusual excitement, and, rushing into the dressing-room, hailed her fellow poetesses.

"Oh jubilate! Just look here! This came only five minutes before I started. Isn't it ripping?"

"You don't mean to say we've won the prize?" gasped Maggie Orton.

"No—not the prize! But we've got something. Quite enough to cock-a-doodle about. Here, read what they say!"

A cluster of heads immediately collected over the letter. It was typed, and appeared strictly businesslike. It ran thus:—

"60 King Street,
Kirkton.

"Dear Madam,

"We are in receipt of your verses in respect of our competition for advertising our brand of tea. Though they do not attain the level of first prize offered, they are not bad on the whole, and we think we might be able to use them. We are therefore willing to give you £1, 5s. for the three, and would add a further 15s. for the Christmas-card verses and cracker mottoes, making £2 for the lot. We retain your verses pending your consideration of this offer, and will forward cheque and copyright agreement should you accept it.

"Yours faithfully,
"Jones & Jackson, Ltd."

The successful authoresses turned to one another with almost incredulous delight, and broke into open rejoicings.

"Goody! How stunning!"

"What a frolicsome joke!"

"Accept it? Ra-ther!"

"Hi-cockalorum! We're in luck!"

"I never dreamt we'd really win anything."

"We shall have to sample this tea now. We praised it up enough!"

"Write to-day, Mildred, and say 'Done!'"

"Oh, we have scored!"

Mildred received the cheque by return of post, and as her uncle kindly cashed it for her at once, she brought two golden sovereigns to school to exhibit to her proud co-operators. The syndicate marched at once to the Principal's study, and, after a brief explanation, handed over the amount for the College library. Miss Cartwright was very much astonished, and laughed heartily as she tendered her congratulations.

"I didn't know we had so much talent at St. Cyprian's," she remarked. "We must keep a copy of the verses. It is a very nice idea to devote the money to the library, and I think you, who have gained it, ought to have the choosing of the books."

"Oh, may we?" said the girls.

"Most certainly. Bring me a list of what you would like, and I will order them from Bartholomew's."

The members of the syndicate felt themselves public benefactresses as they consulted the rest of the Form upon the drawing up of the list. There was naturally plenty of discussion, but in the end a dozen volumes were selected, and made quite a valuable addition to the not-too-well-stocked library. The incident drew attention to the scantiness of the collection on the shelves, the monitresses took the matter up, and it was put to the vote and carried unanimously that in future every girl, on leaving the College, should be asked to present two books—one for the senior and one for the junior branch—as a parting gift to St. Cyprian's. By this method the number of volumes would be annually increased; and though it was not compulsory, it was thought that nobody would be likely to refuse to offer her contribution.

The Alliance had brought many new interests to the school, and now that the Eisteddfod was over, the pendulum of excitement swung round from music to games. It was the turn of the Athletic branch of the league, and a cricket match had been fixed for the following Saturday afternoon between St. Cyprian's and Templeton. It was to be held at Haselwell, a suburb a few miles out of Kirkton, where the county matches were always played. The Alliance, of course, could not aspire to the county ground, but they were able to hire a very good pitch, which was often let out for school matches, and which afforded plenty of accommodation for spectators, including a covered stand.

Naturally St. Cyprian's team had been doing its utmost in the way of training; and Joan Richards as captain, and Kitty Fletcher as chief organizer of the Games department held many anxious consultations. They congratulated themselves that they had been drawn to play their first match against Templeton, and not against either the High School or the Marston Grove School, both of which had acquired a well-justified reputation in the cricket field. Of Templeton's play they knew little. Like themselves, it had not before contested with other schools, and beyond the fact (which Kitty had heard at the High School) that its captain, Marjorie Rawlins, was an excellent bowler, its points were problematical.

Joan was making her eleven concentrate its final energies on fielding, especially on catching and throwing in, which she regarded as half the battle.

"Some girls muff the ball, and some throw it about twenty yards, and the next fielder has to go for it while the other side's making runs," she affirmed. "I know you don't like fielding, but, if we want to score, we've got to practise it."

To Joan and Kitty, as "Athletics" delegates, the success or failure of this their first match meant much. The idea had got about at St. Cyprian's that the College was no good at games, and they were very anxious to correct so mistaken a notion. Once establish a precedent, and the girls would have more confidence, and be far more strenuous at their practices. They had never forgotten a certain rosy era of prowess under the tuition of a former mistress, and if they could once more be brought to the pitch of enthusiasm they had reached with Miss Pritchard, all would surely be well for the future.

The Alliance, having taken the cricket pitch for the afternoon, issued tickets of admission to any of its members who wished to go as spectators, and about sixty girls from St. Cyprian's availed themselves of the opportunity, Mildred among the number. The match was to begin at two o'clock, so after an early lunch they went by tram-car to the city, and caught the 1.25 train to Haselwell. Some of the girls had been there before to see county matches, and pointed out the famous ground, with its tiers upon tiers of wooden seats, the modern counterpart of an ancient Roman circus. Their own pitch was not far away from the station, and turned out to be quite well kept and satisfactory. Mildred took her place next to Maudie Stearne on one of the benches, and looked about her. There was a good gathering of spectators, for not only had St. Cyprian's and Templeton girls come to watch, but a fair number from the other schools had also turned up.

"The Coll.'s on appro. to-day," said Maudie. "I hope we shan't disgrace ourselves before all that set from the High School."

"Joan's in a flutter!" said Mildred.

"But Kitty's as cool as a cucumber. She might be going to play her little brothers in her own garden!"

"Good old Kit-cat! She'll do her level best, I know."

"Has Miss Harris come with Templeton?"

"No, I don't see her. I'm glad Miss Cartwright's here, though. One likes one's Principal to see one's first match."

"They're going to toss!" exclaimed Bess Harrison excitedly.

The two captains now came forward, exchanged a few civilities, and the orthodox penny went spinning into the air.

"Tails!" cried Marjorie Rawlins. "Tails it is! We'll bat!"

Joan lost no time in placing her field, and presently the two first bats sallied forth from the pavilion, and St. Cyprian's scanned them narrowly. One was short and squat, with an air of general strength about her, and used her bat as a walking-stick as she came; the other, tall and slim, carried her bat under her arm, and leisurely put on her batting gloves as she walked up to the pitch.

"Gladys Fuller and Beryl Norton," volunteered Bess Harrison, who knew something of the Templeton strength.

Beryl was to take first ball, and seemed rather nervous as the umpire gave her her centre; then, glancing round to take a last look at the position of the field, she prepared to face the bowling. Kitty was no "duffer" with the leather, having been assiduously coached by a critical brother who was in the Kirkton Grammar School eleven, and tolerated neither lobs nor half-volleys. A moderately long run with a swinging step brought her to the wicket; with a high overhand action she sent the ball down the pitch at a good pace. Luckily for Beryl it was off the wicket, as it beat her entirely. The next ball was dead straight, but Beryl was prepared for the pace this time, and played it respectfully back to the bowler. In fact, she was evidently not out to take risks, and the first over proved a maiden.

Who was going to take the next over was in everyone's mind. The point was soon settled, for Joan rolled the ball gently in the direction of Daisy Holt. Daisy's bowling was not quite orthodox according to modern ideas: she bowled lobs, hence her pseudonym with the team of "Lobster". But she knew how to vary both her pace and pitch, so that her bowling was quite dangerous. Her first ball pitched a little to the onside and had an artful break; but Gladys, to show her contempt for "underhand", swept round to leg, and missed it. She had failed to allow for the break, but, luckily for her, her skirts entangled the ball, and Daisy's instant appeal for l.b.w. was refused. Rendered wary by experience, Gladys played her next ball more carefully, and scored a single. This brought Beryl to the other end. It is strange how a long course of overhand bowling induces contempt of lobs. Daisy's next ball was a splendid one—straight, swift, and of good length; but Beryl, who seemed to have lost all her caution, mis-timed the blind swipe she made at it, and the next moment was walking off rather crest-fallen towards the pavilion, amid uproarious applause from St. Cyprian's, and shouts of "Good old Lobster!"

Maggie Lowe, the next bat, was well known as a good player. She handled her bat with a freedom and precision which augured ill for loose bowling, and the first half-volley that Daisy sent down she promptly sent to the boundary. After this the score mounted slowly, runs coming in twos and singles, and both girls seemed to gain in confidence, and played more freely. Kitty had all this time been bowling well and keeping a good length, though she had met with no luck as yet. Her turn was soon to come, however. A swift rising ball slightly to the off tempted Gladys to her destruction, and away glanced the ball to long slip. But Jessie Hudson was ready, having profited by her training. Would she reach it? The whole field held its breath. She's got it! No! The ball rebounds from her hands, but she has it again before it reaches the ground, thus bringing off a brilliant catch at the second time of asking. Thirty one for two, last player fifteen, went up on the board—not such a bad score after all! Templeton's captain, Marjorie Rawlins, now came forth with a look of determination on her face. She played with extreme care at first, but soon seemed to get her eye in, and runs came more quickly. Forty went up, and then fifty, to a great round of applause from Templeton. Joan now went on to bowl herself, instead of Daisy. She bowled a good medium-pace overhand, with a very tricky break from the off. Alas for Maggie Lowe! A well-pitched ball to the off tempted her to step out, but she had misjudged the length and ignored the break. The next moment her bails were flying, and she returned to the pavilion amid hearty applause for a useful innings of fourteen.

The next player was one of those happy-go-lucky, slashing hitters who are always a great accession of strength to a team when their batting comes off. She commenced hitting about her with great freedom, showing small respect for the bowling at either end. Fortunately for St. Cyprian's, Joan's careful training in fielding told its tale, and runs came less freely than might have been expected. Still, the score was mounting up steadily, and Miss Slasher seemed to be greatly enjoying herself when a really good catch at long-on put an end to her innings.

Sixty-seven for four now went up, and St. Cyprian's began to pull rather long faces, and wondered what Joan would do next. Joan had evidently made up her mind, for at the next over Edna Carson appeared at the wicket. St. Cyprian's took heart of grace, for Edna's bowling was very peculiar. It was a sort of compromise between roundhand and underhand, and where she had learned it nobody knew. However, it was swift and straight, kept very low, and was by no means easy to play, and, coming as it did after bowling which rose sharply from the pitch, it took the batters quite by surprise. Her first ball was dead on the middle stump. Marjorie Rawlins, who appeared to be expecting a slow, struck too late, and the next moment Peggie Potter, the wicket-keeper, threw the ball gleefully in the air, while the umpire sedately walked up to replace the bails.

The next player was no more successful. She spooned an easy catch to point, and was followed after a short interval by a fine strapping girl who came striding up to the wicket like a boy.

"Janet Armstrong," remarked the knowing Bess Harrison; and at the very sight of her powerful form the fielders all moved outwards, not even waiting for the signals which Joan was so plentifully bestowing upon them.

Janet took her block composedly, and waited with her bat slightly raised. "Now," thought Edna "if I can only drop the ball just under that bat, out goes the champion!" It was the third ball of the over, and St. Cyprian's maintain that it was the swiftest Edna had ever been known to bowl. Janet made a powerful stroke at it, apparently thinking it was a half-volley. But Edna's aim was true. She had sent down a deadly "yorker" which got under Janet's bat and spread-eagled her wicket.

"Well bowled! Well bowled!" shouted St. Cyprian's. "Why, she's done the hat trick!" and for several minutes delight and excitement reigned supreme.

"You shall choose it at Liberty's!" cried Joan, oblivious in her enthusiasm of the depleted state of the club exchequer.

The next player was already taking her centre from the umpire before order was restored. After this Templeton seemed to lose heart, their batting quite collapsed, and the innings closed for seventy-nine, two of the remaining three wickets falling to Joan, while Edna captured the last by an amazingly swift full pitch.

The Templeton captain was not long in arranging her field, and Joan, after some delay caused by a prolonged search for batting gloves, sent in Kitty Fletcher and Clarice Mayfield to face the bowling of Janet Armstrong at one end, Marjorie Rawlins herself taking the ball at the other.

Things started none too well for St. Cyprian's. The bowling was decidedly difficult. Marjorie Rawlins's slow overhand twisters needed constant watching, while Janet Armstrong was evidently trying all she knew to get her own back again. She was showing very fine form, and her easy, graceful style and capital pace and length struck St. Cyprian's at once with admiration and dread. Kitty and Clarice were both steady bats, however, and faced the bowling with a courage which did them credit, though runs came very slowly, and it was not until the third over that Kitty managed to score a single off Janet. This brought Clarice to the other end, and the first ball she received, a lovely bailer, proved too much for her. Peggie Potter came in next, with instructions from Joan to "stonewall everything" and wear the bowling down. These she communicated to Kitty in a mysterious conclave between the wickets before taking her centre, and both girls carried them out to the letter, playing a very careful and cautious game for several overs.

Kitty was by this time beginning to bat with more confidence and freedom, when, in playing back to an awkward ball from Marjorie Rawlins, she managed to hit her own wicket. With two wickets down, the score still under ten, and the bowling what it was, things looked rather black for St. Cyprian's. The buzz of cheerful girlish chatter died down, and a taciturn gloom took its place. Joan herself was going in next. Would she and Peggie manage to make a stand and wear down this terrible bowling? was the thought in each girl's mind as they saw her walk up to the wicket, take her centre, and prepare to receive her first ball from Marjorie Rawlins. It was on the off side, and slightly overpitched, and Joan sent it straight to the boundary for three, amid rounds of applause from her delighted supporters. Over was now called, and Joan faced the bowling of Janet Armstrong. Having broken her duck, however, she was breathing more freely, and soon found that the bowling, though good and accurate, was by no means unplayable. After a few overs of careful play she began to get her eye in, and with Peggie stonewalling with dogged persistence at the other end, and now and then making a single, the score crept up, at first gradually, and then more rapidly, till twenty, thirty, and then forty appeared on the board. At this point a sad mishap befell poor Peggie. She was getting so keen on backing up Joan's free and frequent drives that she was tempted out of her ground before the ball was actually delivered. Janet noticed this, and the next time it occurred, instead of delivering the ball she turned round and put down the wicket. Greatly disgusted with herself for having given her wicket away in such a silly manner, Peggie walked back to the pavilion, where, to her great relief, instead of the chaff and upbraiding she expected, she received quite an ovation. For had not she and Joan made a great stand at a critical point in the game, and saved a situation which might easily have led to a complete collapse?

Edna Carson, who went in next, obviously meant to continue Peggie's policy of keeping her end up and letting Joan do the scoring. She stolidly blocked everything that came her way, to the great disgust of Janet, who was evidently thirsting for her wicket, and was sending down some astonishingly good balls. But with swift balls, even if only blocked, you can often steal a run, and as the Templeton fielding was not nearly so good as St. Cyprian's, Edna frequently managed to make a single, and thus give Joan the opportunity of which she was not slow to avail herself. Gradually the score increased until fifty went up amid much rejoicing. At this point Edna, who had never seemed at her ease, though she had been batting freely for nearly half an hour, gave Janet her revenge by returning an easy catch. Grace Ashworth was the next bat, but did not stay long, being clean bowled by Janet Armstrong; and a similar fate befell Winifred Barbour, without adding to the score. Just as Sophy Manners, the next player, was coming out of the pavilion, Joan heard the neighbouring clock chime the first quarter. "A quarter-past four," she thought complacently, but moving a few paces from the pitch, she took a glance at the clock to make sure. To her horror and dismay the hands pointed to a quarter-past five!

"Hit out for all you're worth!" she whispered to Sophy as she came up. "Thirty to win, and only a quarter of an hour to make them in!"

Sophy, who was both bold and handy with the bat, and, as the girls all declared, "simply had no nerves", was nothing loath to take this advice, and for the next few minutes both she and Joan were scoring merrily. Sixty for six—that did not look so bad; but only nine minutes remained, and twenty runs were wanted to win. Joan glances uneasily at the clock, and hits out harder than ever.

But the bowlers still keep a good length, and runs are coming more slowly; for Joan knows that if either of the present wickets falls she has no one left to rely upon in an emergency like this, so she plays with more caution, only lashing out when opportunity offers. Seventy goes up, with only four minutes left! Sophy gets one round to leg for three, and a moment later has one to the boundary for four. Three runs wanted to win, and Joan has the bowling. She sends one to the on for two. Now for the winning hit, and only a minute to make it in! Marjorie Rawlins artfully sends down the ball a trifle slower and shorter pitched than before. St. Cyprian's hold their breath. A moment later they are gasping in agony, for Joan has misjudged the ball, and up it goes like a rocket between cover-point and bowler.

Both girls make a dash for it, but realizing the imminence of a collision, each suddenly stops short, thinking it is the other's catch, and the ball drops harmlessly between them, just as Joan arrives at the other end with the run to her credit, and the match won for St. Cyprian's by four wickets.

CHAPTER IX

The time was drawing very near now for Herr Hoffmann's Students' Concert, and whenever Mildred thought about it her heart descended somewhere into the region of her boots. The Professor had been giving her lessons at his own house in addition to those she took at St. Cyprian's, and with the one exception of the day of the cricket match, she had attended every Saturday afternoon at the Philharmonic Hall to practise the "Frühlingslied" with the students' orchestra. For the first time in her life she was really working hard, and sometimes she almost astonished herself at the progress she made. Technical difficulties, which before had seemed impossibilities, smoothed themselves away, and her supple fingers began to acquire a new mastery over her instrument. That she needed all her best efforts she knew well. The fear lest she should fail in her piece haunted her like a bad dream. The Professor was not easy to satisfy. His ideal was so high that she continually fell short of it, and in spite of incessant practising and extra music lessons, so hard seemed the task which she was attempting that she sometimes felt inclined to fling down her violin in despair, and give up the concert altogether.

The one thing that upheld her was the remembrance of the story of her father's life which her aunt had told her. The unknown father, whom she had lost when she was still only a baby, had left her his Stradivarius as a legacy, with his dying injunction to make the good use of it which he had once hoped to do himself. The violin was her one link with him. Often now, when she practised it, she thought how his fingers had played on it before, and what beautiful music they must have brought from it. To respect his last wish seemed to her a solemn obligation. What he could not accomplish himself he had charged her to perform, and it was a trust which she must strive faithfully to fulfil. She felt as if her success might compensate for his failure. The talent which he had trifled with she must foster to the utmost of her power. The Comte's secret (solved, alas, too late!) should be her watchword for the future. Her father's neglected genius was like a debt left owing to the general good of the world, and on her shoulders must fall the burden of paying it.

Added to this was the knowledge that she had a duty to the uncle and aunt who had already spent much on her music lessons, and to the college where she was receiving her education. Her playing at this concert was an important point for St. Cyprian's, and she must think not only of her own personal successes, but of winning laurels for the school. She knew that Miss Cartwright had been disappointed in the result of the Eisteddfod, and this was a golden opportunity of upholding the reputation which that festival had slightly undermined. St. Cyprian's must show to all Kirkton that its special system of music culture was of real value, and that its training could produce a pupil worthy of its high aims. Yet the very thought of how much depended upon her efforts brought its own penalty.

"I wonder if everybody else is as nervous as I am?" she said, as she talked the matter over with her aunt. "I've heard all the other students now, down at the Philharmonic. We took a full rehearsal last Saturday. I don't believe Mr. Frith, who plays the 'cello, minds at all. He never cares in the least when the Professor's angry, he simply laughs and shrugs his shoulders. Miss Buchanan, the pianist, told me she couldn't sleep at night for thinking about the concert. It means so much to her, because she hopes to get pupils of her own by and by. The orchestra will manage best. The audience won't notice if one of them plays a wrong note, though Herr Hoffmann's sure to hear it, and scold afterwards. I hope the room won't be very hot, or I know I shall break a string. If I did, it would upset me so dreadfully, I don't believe I should be able to go on, even if the Professor handed me his own violin instead."

"We'll hope you may have a better fate than that," returned Mrs. Graham. "Your little Strad. doesn't often treat you so unkindly. It's generally a most faithful servant."

"I'm glad I've such a splendid instrument," continued Mildred. "It makes the most enormous difference to one's playing. When I try some of the other students' violins, they sound like banjos. I believe the Professor likes my 'Strad.' far better than his own Amati. He often catches it up and plays on it, just out of sheer enjoyment. It is a beauty, with its lovely old Cremona varnish, and the wonderful label inside: 'Antonius Stradivarius Cremonensis fecit'. There's no mistake about its genuineness. By the by, Tantie, do you know the Mayor and Mayoress are coming to the concert? Isn't it terrible?"

"I don't think you need mind them very much. They're probably kindly people who will have nothing but praise for all the performers. I should be much more afraid of the newspaper critics, who really know the points of good playing, and will judge you by a musician's standard."

"If only there could be no audience!" groaned Mildred. "It's the feeling that everyone will be looking at me that's so dreadful. We rehearsed in the Town Hall last Saturday, and I quite enjoyed playing to rows of empty benches!"

"Try to forget that anybody is there. Just think of your piece, and imagine you're playing it at school, or in Herr Hoffmann's study. It will be time enough to remember the audience when people begin to clap. Have you anything prepared for an encore?"

"I don't suppose I shall get one, but the Professor's making me practise the D minor Polonaise, so that I could be ready. It's a bright little thing, and not too long. Oh, how glad I shall be when it's all over! And yet I don't want the day to come!"

The brief week left before the concert seemed to Mildred to run away only too quickly. The date had been fixed for 16th July, for Herr Hoffmann liked his recital to form a winding-up of his year of musical tuition, which had commenced in September. It was probably as anxious a time for him as for his quaking pupils, and he certainly spared no trouble in coaching them for their performance, though he lost his temper so often in the attempt that some of the students declared he would never find it again.

At length the great day arrived. Mildred had had her final lesson from her Professor, and a last word of encouragement from Miss Cartwright, who, with many of St. Cyprian's teachers and music pupils, was to be at the concert. Poor Mildred, who grew hourly more and more nervous, was almost sick with apprehension as her aunt helped her to put on her white evening dress before the long mirror in the spare bedroom, and tied the wavy gold hair with a blue satin ribbon.

"Cheer up! You look like a little ghost!" said Mrs. Graham, pinching her niece's pale cheeks. "It won't be half so bad as you expect. You make it far worse by thinking too much about it. All the other performers are in the same case as yourself. You'll have plenty of companions in misfortune."

"I don't want to break down and disgrace you," said Mildred, gulping back something in her throat that threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You won't do that. You've worked really hard, and if there's any truth in the Comte's secret, I believe the Stradivarius knows it, and will make you play well in spite of yourself. You've one great advantage over the piano students, that you can bring your own instrument. Try to think that though this is your first recital, your little violin is very well accustomed to appear in public, and will feel so at home in the concert hall that when you take the bow in your hand it will almost talk of its own accord. It has been a long time in retirement, and to-night it's anxious to show every one what it can do."

"I hope I shan't disappoint it!" said Mildred, laughing a little. "It's rather hard on it to belong to a beginner, as it's accustomed to such laurels. Tantie, I'm so glad you're sitting in the front row, so that I know you're near me. I believe if I feel very bad, it will just help me to see you there. I shan't think so much about other people if I can look at your face."

The cab arriving at the door put an end to all further conversation. Mrs. Graham wrapped Mildred in an evening cloak, Uncle Colin was ready and waiting downstairs, and together they drove to the Town Hall.

"Good luck to you, lassie!" said Dr. Graham, kissing his trembling little niece as he left her at the performers' entrance. "Don't you worry yourself! You'll play quite well enough to please me, and a great many other people besides. We don't expect a Paganini at fifteen. Do your best, and you'll get through all right. Here comes Herr Hoffmann to encourage you."

It was indeed the Professor himself, so resplendent in evening dress, so bland and gracious, so overflowing with genial smiles and good humour, that Mildred hardly knew him.

"Ach! you have got a fit of ze nerves!" he declared, leading his pupil to a room at the back of the platform, where most of the students were already assembled. "Take it not so to heart, lieb Kindlein! You will be a good Mädchen, and play just as I have taught you. Frisch! Wohlan! Here is a cup of coffee, very strong. Drink! It will give you courage. Himmel! Did I not suffer myself like this once? But now it make me to smile."

He patted her kindly on the shoulder as he handed her the cup of black coffee. It was not nice, but Mildred felt better when she had swallowed it, and, recovering her spirits a little, began to look round her, and take some notice of her fellow performers. Some were anxiously tuning their instruments, and some were chatting with affected carelessness. A few of them she knew already, for she had spoken to them at the orchestra rehearsals, and several came forward now to give her a word of welcome. She was the youngest in the room. Most of the other students were practised players, some of whom indeed were training for a musical career. The Professor, anxious to keep up his deservedly high reputation as a teacher, would allow none but his best pupils to appear at his recitals.

"You get used to it in time," said one of the piano students, a tall, pretty girl with chestnut hair, just out of her teens, who stood working her fingers about as if to keep her joints supple. "I thought I should have died at my first concert, and now I don't really care very much."

"I think a good audience is rather inspiring," said a violoncellist, a self-conscious young fellow whose long waving hair and artistic necktie proclaimed him a budding professional. "I can always play better from a platform. A little applause seems to spur one on."

"Yes, if you get it," said another, nervously rubbing resin on his bow. "That generally remains to be seen."

"I've never missed an encore at any concert I've played at," returned the first confidently. "I shall be astonished if my Barcarolle is not a success, though one can't expect much real musical appreciation from town councillors and an ignorant public. I believe they'd applaud a German band!"

"Not so ignorant as you seem to think," said a third student, coming up to join the group. "I don't know any audience that can tell good music from bad better than a Kirkton one. It needs your best work to give satisfaction, and there's always a full and most intelligent criticism in the Herald next day."

"I suppose the old Professor's exploiting you," said the violoncellist, turning to Mildred. "He isn't keen on juvenile prodigies as a rule. The last he had was little Mathilde Zimmermann, and she did nothing after all! Do you go out to 'At Homes'?"

"Oh, no!" replied Mildred. "This is the first concert I've ever played at—except just at school. I don't want to now, only Herr Hoffmann says I must."

"They aren't running her professionally, so she won't interfere with you or your engagements," put in the piano student. "She's the Professor's pet pupil at present, that's all. But if you don't wake up, she'll take the shine out of you some day, so look to your laurels!" Then, speaking to Mildred, she added kindly: "Don't mind him, dear! You'll find when you begin to play in public that you'll meet with a good deal of jealousy from other performers, but you mustn't let it worry you. The music's the only thing to care about, and if one can interpret that, one feels it's something to live for, in spite of all."

"Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen?" cried the Professor, entering in a perfect whirlwind of excitement. "Ze hall is already full! It is ze hour! Ze audience await us. Come, we commence!"

The first selection on the programme was an "Overture to Lucretius", and as nearly all of the company were members of the students' orchestra, Mildred found herself left alone with the few piano pupils. She had often attended concerts, but so far had always been numbered among the audience. This was her first peep behind the scenes, and it seemed strange to listen to the music from the back of the platform. She could hear the applause at the conclusion of the overture, and the duet for violin and violoncello which followed.

"It will be my turn next," said her friend of the chestnut locks. "There's one comfort in coming on early, you get it over,—though I always find the audience cold at first. I suppose they think if they call for encores too soon, they'll never get through the programme. I see you're three-quarters down. That's the best place you could possibly have, just when everyone has got enthusiastic, and before it's time to begin and think about catching trains. You couldn't have been more lucky. There's the last bar! Now for my ordeal! Good-bye!"

Sitting waiting with her violin in her hand, poor Mildred felt as if no concert had ever dragged along so slowly. She wished she could take a peep into the hall, and see where her uncle and aunt were sitting. That the room was very full she knew from the remarks of the other students, but so far the audience, though fairly appreciative, could hardly be described as warm. Piece followed piece, then came the ten minutes' interval; the second part of the programme commenced, and at length the "Frühlingslied" drew near. As the finale of the orchestral movement which preceded it died away, Mildred took her violin, and summoning all her courage went with a beating heart up the steep little staircase which led to the platform. The Professor stood at the top, his broad face beaming encouragement.