udia, but had been at home all day with a violent headache, so
Rosemary had volunteered to walk to Windy Howe after tea and take it.
She went by a short cut through the fields, and approached the house by
way of the orchard. The apple-trees were in full blossom; the lovely
pink bloom stood out against the blue of the afternoon sky in a delicate
maze of colour too subtle for even the most cunning artist hand to
reproduce. Mr. Castleton's sketch, left on its easel under the hedge,
and splotched with dabs of rose madder and Payne's grey, gave only the
faintest impression of the fairy scene. Clumps of primroses bloomed
among the grass, and a thrush, on the tip-top of a hawthorn bough,
trilled in rivalry with the blackbird whose nest was in the old
pear-tree. They were not the only musicians, however. Somebody had
opened the gate from the garden and was walking leisurely down the
orchard--somebody in a light cotton dress, with the sunshine gleaming on
her golden hair. She came slowly, and sang as she walked, sang like the
blackbird and the thrush, for sheer enjoyment of the glory of the spring
day. The clear high notes went thrilling through the air with all the
freshness and sweetness of the birds' tones.

Rosemary, unnoticed, stood aside to watch and listen, as Claudia, still
warbling on high A, stopped under an apple-tree to feed a coopful of
chickens with some bread she had brought. The girl's beautiful face and
figure against the apple-blossom background and the blue sky made a
picture worthy of the brush of an Academician.

"Heavens!" thought Rosemary. "What a voice! If Signor Arezzo could hear
_that_, now, he'd consider it worth training. It has all the glorious
tone and volume that I lack. And so pure and high! I should think she
could take C! The girl looks a singer. With that magnificent chest and
throat she ought to be able to bring out her notes. She has such a
splendid physique. She's a lovely girl, too. What a sensation she'd make
on a concert platform!"

Aloud, however, Rosemary simply said, "Good afternoon!" presented the
paper pattern, explained that Lorraine had a headache, and asked if
Claudia were fond of singing. Claudia flushed crimson.

"Oh, I can't sing!" she stammered. "Not really. Only just to myself when
nobody's listening. I didn't know you were there."

"You ought to take lessons," commented Rosemary.

Claudia shook her head. She was pinning back a yellow curl with a clasp.

"That's quite