he gathered a generous
armful.

Mrs. Taine protested, but the girl presented her offering with such grace
and winsomeness that the other could not refuse. As she received the gift,
the perfect features of the woman of the world were colored by a blush
that even she could not control. "I understand, Miss Andres," she said,
"that you are an accomplished violinist."

"I teach and play in Park Church," was the simple answer.

"I have never happened to hear you, myself,"--said Mrs. Taine
smoothly,--"but my friends who live next door--Mr. Lagrange and Mr.
King--have told me about you."

"Oh!" The girl's voice was vaguely troubled, while the other, watching,
saw the blush that colored her warmly tinted cheeks.

"It is good of you to play for them," continued the woman from Fairlands
Heights, casually. "You must enjoy the society of such famous men, very
much. There are a great many people, you know, who would envy you your
friendship with them."

The girl replied quickly, "O, but you are mistaken. I am not acquainted
with them, at all; that is--not with Mr. King--I have never spoken to
him--and I only met Mr. Lagrange, for a few minutes, by accident."

"Indeed! But I am forgetting the purpose of my call, and my friends will
become impatient. Do you ever play for private entertainments, Miss
Andres?--for--say a dinner, or a reception, you know?"

"I would be very glad for such an engagement, Mrs. Taine. I must earn what
I can with my music, and there are not enough pupils to occupy all my
time. But perhaps you should hear me play, first. I will get my violin."

Mrs. Taine checked her, "Oh, no, indeed. It is quite unnecessary, my
dear. The opinion of your distinguished neighbors is quite enough. I shall
keep you in mind for some future occasion. I just wished to learn if you
would accept such an engagement. Good-by. Thanks--so much--for your
flowers."

She was upon the point of turning away, when a low cry from the nearby
porch startled them both. Turning, they saw the woman with the disfigured
face, standing in the doorway; an expression of mingled wonder, love, and
supplication upon her hideously marred features. As they looked, she
started toward them,--impulsively stretching out her arms, as though the
gesture was an involuntary expression of some deep emotion,--then checked
herself, suddenly as though in doubt.

Sibyl Andres uttered an exclamation. "Why, Myra! what is it, dear?"

Mrs. Taine turned away with a