broken out madly once more. "He is singing superbly, to-night; but
this last was wonderful. Something has rubbed him the wrong way; I know
that set of his jaw, and it always means that he will be inspired to do
his best. Queer thing; isn't it? If I were angry or hurt, I should go to
pieces completely; but it brings Thayer to his feet, every time."

"What do you think was the reason?" Beatrix asked, with as great a show
of interest as she could command. The first lesson Mrs. Dane had taught
her child in preparation for her coming-out tea had been the simple and
obvious one that men were rarely minded to sympathize with feminine
moods; but that under all conditions a woman who seeks to please, must
adapt herself to the mental vagaries of her masculine companion. Even
Lorimer, tender and loving as he invariably showed himself, was no
exception to the rule.

"It was Arlt's snubbing," Lorimer returned, as he rose. "It was a
beastly thing to do. Arlt played superbly, and they might have treated
him with common courtesy. But there is no accounting for tastes. Thayer
is the hero of the evening, and people are too busy applauding him, to
have any time for lesser lights."

"Do you think Mr. Arlt will ever succeed?" she asked anxiously for,
through Thayer's efforts to bring them together, she had become
genuinely interested in the boy.

"God knows," Lorimer answered, with a sudden gravity that became him
well.

Later, that evening, Thayer joined Lorimer and Beatrix in a corner of
the Lloyd Avalons's music-room. Beatrix greeted him half shyly.

"It was a new experience," she said, with an effort to speak lightly. "I
thought I had learned to know your voice long ago; but I have decided
that I never really knew it, until to-night."

He stood looking down at her with a grave smile.

"My voice isn't always reliable, Miss Dane. Once in a while, it seems to
run away with me. To-night, it took the bits in its teeth."

She felt compelled to raise her eyes to meet his.

"I hope it won't do it too often. It is wonderful; but--" Then she
pulled herself together with a little laugh. "It must be rather amusing
to you, Mr. Thayer, to watch your effect on your audience, and to know
that you can make them shiver or cry whenever you choose."

He refused to be won into the laugh for which she hoped.

"It isn't whenever I choose," he responded, with unexpected literalness.
"Sometimes I feel as if I were the victim of a sort of possession