but an
empty stage now stood a scene representing a magnificent garden, with
statuary, fountains and beautiful shrubbery all in their proper
places. True, a great portion of this was represented by the back
drop, but Dorothy knew that from the front the scene would look very
real. Great jagged edges of wood wings protruded on to the
stage--three on either side--while benches and palms were scattered
here and there to properly balance the picture. Then, as if to force
into the scene an incongruity of some sort, a grand piano was pushed
out of the darkness in the rear of the stage, to a place in the
garden, where it stood, seemingly the one blot on the landscape.

"A piano in a garden!" exclaimed Dorothy, and laughed softly to
herself. "Who ever heard of such a thing? Yet, of course, the concert
could not proceed without it."

"Ah, my dear, here you are! You are fascinated with it all, yes?"
questioned Herr Deichenberg, as he passed in a hurry. She nodded,
smiling, and saw him rush hurriedly to the dressing-rooms below the
stage to make sure all his pupils were present.

As he went the house electrician, with each hand on portions of the
big switchboard, threw on the border and bunch lights, making the
great stage almost as light as day. Then, out in front, Dorothy heard
the orchestra as it struck into the overture, and hastening away, she
seated herself in her dressing-room to await her turn on the
programme.

Aunt Betty, she knew, sitting with Len and Jim in one of the front
rows of the orchestra, would be eagerly awaiting her appearance. She
resolved that not only her relative, but Herr Deichenberg, as well,
should be proud of her achievements.

She heard the first number--a piano solo--then the great roar of
applause that swept over the assemblage. This was followed by an
encore. Then another round of applause.

The next number was a harp solo. This was followed by a piano duet,
which, in turn, was succeeded by a vocal number. Following each the
applause was almost deafening. Encores were allowed in each instance
by the music master.

Finally, toward the close of another piano duet, a call boy came to
the door of Dorothy's dressing-room to say:

"Herr Deichenberg says tell you your turn is next, and you will
please come at once and wait in the wings."

Most girls would have felt a flutter of excitement when told that one
of the crucial moments of their lives was at hand. Not so Dorothy
Calvert. Her hands