ghed back. What a changed dinner table, at which
the old lady drowsed and cooed! Norma's blood was dancing, her head was
in a whirl, she was hardly conscious that this soaring and singing soul
of hers had a body.

At eight she and Mrs. Melrose went to Mrs. von Behrens's, and Norma and
Chris went through the song again and again and again, for the benefit
of a small circle of onlookers. Hendrick, who had sworn that wild horses
would not drag him to the entertainment, sat with a small son in his
lap, and applauded tirelessly. Annie criticized and praised alternately.
Mrs. Melrose went to sleep, and Annie's new secretary, a small, lean,
dark girl of perhaps twenty-two, passionately played the music. Norma
knew exactly how this girl felt, how proud she was of her position, how
anxious to hold it, and how infinitely removed from her humble struggle
the beautiful Miss Sheridan seemed! Yet she herself had been much the
same less than two years ago!

Norma could have laughed aloud. She envied no one to-night. The mystery
and miracle of Chris's love for her was like an ermine mantle about her
shoulders, and like a diadem upon her brows. Annie was delighted with
her, and presently told her she had never before sung so well.

"I suppose practice makes perfect!" the girl answered, innocently. She
was conscious of no hypocrisy. No actress enjoying a long-coveted part
could have rejoiced in every word and gesture more than she. Just to
move, under his eyes, to laugh or to be serious, to listen dutifully to
Annie and the old lady, to flirt with Baby Piet, was ecstasy enough.

They had small opportunity for asides. But that was of no consequence.
All the future was their own. They would see each other to-morrow--or
next day; it did not matter. Norma's hungry heart had something to
remember, now--a very flood-tide of memories. She could have lived for
weeks upon this one day's memories.

Norma and Chris were placed toward the centre of the first half of the
programme on the triumphant Saturday night, and could escape from the
theatre before eleven o'clock to go home to tell Alice all about it.
Chris played the song, on his own piano, and Norma modestly and
charmingly went through it again, to the invalid's great satisfaction.
Alice, when Norma and her mother were gone, tried to strike a spark of
enthusiasm from her husband as to the girl's beauty and talent, but
Chris was pleasantly unresponsive.

"She got through it very nicely;