were studying what was probably
the score of the symphony or of the concerto they expected to hear that
afternoon.

A few did not appear to mind the biting wind, but most of them, by
turned-up coat-collars or bent heads, testified to the contrary. Not
far from Billy a woman nibbled a sandwich furtively, while beyond her a
group of girls were hilariously merry over four triangles of pie which
they held up where all might see.

Many of the faces were youthful, happy, and alert with anticipation;
but others carried a wistfulness and a weariness that made Billy's heart
ache. Her eyes, indeed, filled with quick tears. Later she turned to go,
and it was then that she saw in the line a face that she knew--a face
that drooped with such a white misery of spent strength that she hurried
straight toward it with a low cry.

"Miss Greggory!" she exclaimed, when she reached the girl. "You look
actually ill. Are you ill?"

For a brief second only dazed questioning stared from the girl's
blue-gray eyes. Billy knew when the recognition came, for she saw the
painful color stain the white face red.

"Thank you, no. I am not ill, Miss Neilson," said the girl, coldly.

"But you look so tired out!"

"I have been standing here some time; that is all."

Billy threw a hurried glance down the far-reaching line that she
knew had formed since the girl's two tired feet had taken their first
position.

"But you must have come--so early! It isn't twelve o'clock yet," she
faltered.

A slight smile curved Alice Greggory's lips.

"Yes, it was early," she rejoined a little bitterly; "but it had to be,
you know. I wanted to hear the music; and with this soloist, and this
weather, I knew that many others--would want to hear the music, too."

"But you look so white! How much longer--when will they let you in?"
demanded Billy, raising indignant eyes to the huge, gray-pillared
building before her, much as if she would pull down the walls if she
could, and make way for this tired girl at her side.

Miss Greggory's thin shoulders rose and fell in an expressive shrug.

"Half-past one."

Billy gave a dismayed cry.

"Half-past one--almost two hours more! But, Miss Greggory, you
can't--how can you stand it till then? You've shivered three times since
I came, and you look as if you were going to faint away."

Miss Greggory shook her head.

"It is nothing, really," she insisted. "I am quite well. It is only--I
didn't happen to feel like eating