tour had been a prosperous one for Arlt, as well. Upon several
occasions, he had met with marked favor, and the little touch of success
had reacted upon his personality, rendering him more at ease, more
masterful with his audience. To be popular, art must be modest; but woe
betide it, if it be in the least deprecating! However, Arlt was learning
to face his public with a fairly good grace, and his public showed
itself willing to smile back at him in a thoroughly friendly fashion.

Arlt's overture was to have its first hearing, the week before
Thanksgiving. The matter had been arranged through the influence of his
teacher, and Arlt had been invited to conduct the orchestra for the
event. However, in spite of his added ease, Arlt had judged such an
ordeal too great for his courage. Accordingly, the teacher and Thayer
had taken council together, with the result that Thayer was engaged as
soloist for the evening, and that Thayer insisted upon singing one
group of songs with a piano accompaniment. To this minor detail, Arlt
had been forced to submit, although he was shrewd enough to see that it
was merely a ruse on the part of his teacher to bring him in person
before his audience.

The arrangement of these details, the orchestral rehearsals of the
overture and his own rehearsals with Arlt were engrossing Thayer
completely. Heart and soul, he was working for the boy's success, for he
realized that into this simple overture Arlt had put the very best of
himself, that the young composer's happiness was bound up in the success
or failure of his maiden effort. The creative power had come upon him;
he had worked to the utmost limit with the material ready to his brain.
Now he was waiting to have the world pass judgment whether his work was
worth the doing, whether he should keep on, or turn his back upon his
chosen path. Thayer's own plans, too, were maturing. In the watching
them develop, in the helping Arlt to pass the time of waiting, he almost
succeeded in forgetting the Lorimers. Almost; but not quite. The
forgetting was a little too intentional to be entirely complete. He met
them rarely. Society had not yet organized its winter campaign, and it
was still possible for a man to go his own individual way. Just now,
Thayer's own individual way led him almost daily in the direction of
Washington Square.

He was in Arlt's room, one evening, less than a week before the concert.
He had been dining with Miss Gannion; but he had