ain
and bowed.

Dorothy, listening, had heard all and was preparing for her task,
tuning her violin. Just then Ruth, returning, whispered in her ear,
"Good luck," as she passed her.

Dorothy turned and smiled at her new friend, and then proceeded
forward to the stage, violin in hand. One brief glimpse she caught of
the crowded house, and she thought she had never seen so many, many
people before.

The Hippodrome is very large, the stage being one of the largest in
the world, and the seating capacity being many thousands. So you see
there were a great number of people there. The house was over-crowded,
as naturally every one was interested in the home for blind babies,
and the talent of the evening had called forth a very large
attendance.

Slowly Dorothy raised her violin and started the initial strain of the
melody. The beautiful "Southern Airs" appealed to many, as there were
a large number of southerners present that night. Played by the
beautiful girl, it made the old go back in memory to days that were
the happiest in their lives. They longed for the South; the large
plantations, the beautiful gardens, the spacious, old, rambling
houses, the darkies playing on their violins in the moonlight, the
cabins with the little pickaninies disporting in front--all of these
and more dreams floated vividly before them, inspired by the wonderful
music.

Then softly, very softly the music fell from the violin, the sweet
strains of "Dixie," when suddenly a piercing shriek, another, still
another, rent the air. People turned pale. Some started to rise from
their seats. A woman or two fainted.

Then another and more awful shriek, which sounded as if some one was
being murdered. The people in their seats hesitated! Was it fire? Was
someone being robbed, or murdered, or what? In a single second a great
restlessness took possession of them all, tending to make of the crowd
an angry mob, and panic a possible result.

Dorothy from her place on the stage for a moment was rooted immovable
to the spot. She looked in the direction from which the screams came
and saw a man throw up his hands and shriek again. It was the man who
played the trombone in the orchestra. He threw his instrument in the
air and turned as white as chalk, then stiffened out and began to
froth at the mouth.

In a moment she knew that the man had convulsions. She had somewhere
seen someone in a similar state. The orchestra had suddenly stopped
playing. Out