ad. I must, I just must write it all to Ma Babcock, she will sure
want to tell it at Liza Jane's." With that Alfy crossed the floor and
entered her room where she wrote a long, long letter home telling her
mother of the wonders of a New York hotel.

"Ting-ling-ling-ling," bussed the telephone in the hall. Dorothy
answered the call saying, "Hello. Oh! Why we are all up here. Where?
Oh, yes, in the sitting room. Yes. Yes. Now? All right. Good-bye."
Turning to Aunt Betty, Dorothy said, "It's Mr. Ludlow."

"What did he want, dear?" asked Aunt Betty.

"He is coming right up here," replied Dorothy. "There, that's him now.
Didn't you hear a knock?" Opening the door she found Mr. Ludlow there.
"Come in, Mr. Ludlow."

Mr. Ludlow came in and deposited his gloves, cane and hat on a vacant
space upon the table, then he sat down and turning to Dorothy said: "I
suppose, little girl, you are very, very curious to know where you are
going to play to-morrow--no, not to-morrow--the next day."

"Yes, I am," timidly responded Dorothy.

"Well, I am going to give you a treat. To-morrow I am going to ask
Aunt Betty to take all you young folks to a matinee. I hope I have
picked out a play that will suit you all. I have chosen 'Rebecca of
Sunnybrook Farm.' I suppose you are quite familiar with the little
heroine, Dorothy."

"No, Mr. Ludlow, I am sorry to say I do not know her."

"Oh dear, Dorothy didn't I get you the book to read?" asked Aunt
Betty.

"Yes, Aunt Betty," answered Dorothy, "but Molly took it home with her.
She wanted something to read on the cars."

"Well, well, never mind, you will enjoy the play all the more for not
having read the story. Here are the seats, Mrs. Calvert. And, Dorothy,
I would like you to notice the naturalness of the characters in the
play, and profit by it. Naturalness and ease mean a great deal for
you,--self possession--poise, my dear."

"What about the concert? Where is that? When? Here I am asking
questions faster than you can answer them," remarked Dorothy.

"In time, in time, my dear," responded Mr. Ludlow. "Thursday I will
call for you here and take you with me to Carnegie Hall, where, my
dear, you will render two pieces. The rest of the concert has been
arranged for, and the small part left for you will not scare you, but
only help to get you used to playing before large audiences. Now,
Dorothy child, what would you like to play? This time you can choose
your own pieces."

"I should li