t the audience, Aunt Betty,
everything, except that here was a great orchestra playing her
accompaniment--surely enough encouragement for any girl to do her
best.

There came a pause in the music, and the girl lowered her violin,
while the orchestra played on. There was a slight ripple of applause
from several in the audience, who, apparently, thought the piece was
at an end, but this died away as the girl again raised the instrument
to her chin.

The second part was even more difficult than the first, but Dorothy
swept into it with no thought but to play it as it should be played.
Even the eyes of the orchestra leader lit up with admiration, and
when at last the piece was concluded with a great flourish, and
Dorothy had bowed herself off into the wings, the applause that swept
over the assemblage was louder than at any other time during the
evening.

Herr Deichenberg patted Dorothy reassuringly on the back as she stood
in the wings, panting slightly from the exertion of her work, and
well-pleased that so much of the ordeal was over.

The applause continued without cessation--first, the sharp clapping
of hands, which spread over the audience as if by magic, finally the
stamping of feet; later shrill whistles from the gallery.

"It means for you an encore," said the music master, smiling at
Dorothy. Then he nodded to the electrician, who again flashed a
signal to the orchestra leader, and the musicians struck off into the
overture of Dorothy's second piece.

Bowing rather timidly, but with much grace, the girl again advanced
to the center of the stage, and gazed out for a moment over the vast
ocean of faces which stared up at her. Then as the orchestra finished
the introduction, she again raised her violin to her chin.

The second piece was a sad, plaintive one, and as Dorothy drew her
bow full length across the strings, the instrument sent forth loud
wails, which, to anyone with a keen musical ear, denoted mortal
anguish. This was followed by shorter, quicker parts, which finally
resolved themselves into the coming of a storm. On her G string the
girl brought forth all the terrors of the elements, running the whole
gamut from incessant rumbling to the crashing of the thunder, while
the orchestra supplied effective and necessary accompaniments.

It was a beautiful piece of music, well played, and when Dorothy had
finished and again bowed herself off the stage, the storm of applause
broke forth again. Under Her