rds, nor do any of those horrid things which constitute the
larger part of a man's ambitions and pursuits. You have acted wisely,
my dear, and heaven grant you may be as happy in his love as I am in
tabby's."

"I feel that I shall be," murmured Aurora; "already my bassoon is very
precious to me."

With the dawn of this first passion a new motive seemed to come into
Aurora's life--a gentle melancholy, a subdued sentiment whose
accompaniments were sighings and day-dreamings and solitary tears and
swoonings.

Quite naturally Aurora sought Aunt Eliza's society more than ever now,
and her conversation and thoughts were always on the bassoon. It was
very beautiful.

But late one night Aurora burst into Aunt Eliza's room and threw
herself upon Aunt Eliza's bed, sobbing bitterly. Aunt Eliza was
inexpressibly shocked, and under a sudden impulse of horror the tabby
sprang to her feet, arched her back, bristled her tail, and uttered
monosyllables of astonishment.

"Why, Aurora, what ails you?" inquired Aunt Eliza, kindly.

"Oh, auntie, my heart is broken, I know it is," wailed Aurora.

"Come, come, my child," said Aunt Eliza, soothingly, "don't take on so.
Tell auntie what ails you."

"He was harsh and cruel to me to-night, and oh! I loved him so!"
moaned Aurora.

"A lovers' quarrel, eh?" thought Aunt Eliza; and she got up, slipped
her wrapper on, and brewed Aurora a big bowl of boneset tea. Oh, how
nice and bitter and fragrant it was, and how Aunt Eliza's nostrils
sniffed, and how her eyes sparkled as she sipped the grateful beverage.

"There, drink that, my dear," said Aunt Eliza, "and then tell me all
about it."

Aurora quaffed the bowl of boneset tea, and the wholesome draught
seemed to give her fortitude, for now she told Aunt Eliza the whole
story. It seems that Aurora had been to the opera as usual, not for
the purpose of hearing and seeing the performance, but simply for the
sake of being where the beloved bassoon was. The opera was Wagner's
"Die Walkuere," and the part played by the bassoon in the orchestration
was one of conspicuous importance. Fully appreciating his importance,
the bassoon conducted himself with brutal arrogance and
superciliousness on this occasion. His whole nature seemed changed;
his tones were harsh and discordant, and with malevolent obstinacy he
led all the other instruments in the orchestra through a seemingly
endless series of musical pyrotechnics. There never was a more