t she did not know Molly, the
orchestra began the opening chords of an overture.

The musicians gave an afternoon and evening concert daily, throughout
the season, but to-night their numbers were to be interspersed with
solos given by the guests.

The orchestra was generously applauded, and then a slender figure in a
gown of soft, pink satin seated itself at the piano, and with light
touch and brilliant execution, played a rondo that delighted all.

In response to repeated applause, she played the "Caprice Hongroise,"
which aroused wild enthusiasm.

She smiled, and bowed gracefully in acknowledgment, then turning toward
her husband, who now stood beside her, took from his hand the duplicate
of the song that he was to sing. She always played his accompaniments.

How full of music was his rare voice, how like the tones of a silver
trumpet when he sang "A Song of the Sea," how tender his tones when for
a second number, he sang an "Italian Love Song!"

"Didn't he sing _fine_, just _fine_?" Flossie asked, eagerly.

"Indeed he did," the lady replied, "I never heard a more excellent
voice."

"Well, he's my own Uncle Harry!" said Flossie, a world of love and pride
in her voice.

A young girl played a serenade on the guitar, and a member of the
orchestra played a waltz for violin, and both were encored.

Those who were to perform were in a small room awaiting their turn. They
were laughing and chatting while they waited, and all, save a little
girl, who kept apart from the others, seemed bright and happy. Her eyes
were dull, and her red lips pouting. It was Floretta Paxton, and she was
watching Nancy Ferris, noticing every detail of her costume, and looking
as unpleasant as possible.

Nancy wore a frock of white gauze, thickly strewn with tiny gold
spangles. Her girdle was white satin, her slippers were white, and she
wore a cluster of pink rosebuds in her hair.

"What's she going to do?" Floretta asked in a fretful voice, but Mrs.
Paxton, who stood beside her, could not tell her that. She knew no more
of Nancy's talent than Floretta did.

Floretta had been angry in the afternoon; she had foolishly refused
dinner, and was very hungry; she was made more angry because hers was
not the first number on the program, and now, here was Nancy Ferris
wearing a beautiful frock that far outshone her own!

She was wearing a simple pink muslin, and had felt that she was finely
dressed, until Nancy appeared.

The satin gird