ft. "I wish to hear them sing, first.
Afterward, I shall select the chorus, and hear them sing together."

"That lets me out," was Jerry's relieved, inelegant comment to
Susan Atwell, as she moved to the right. Susan stifled an irrepressible
chuckle and sobered her face for what was to come.

Over among the groups of possible principals Constance became obsessed
with sudden shyness. The majority of the girls were of the upper
classes, and she felt lonely and ill at ease. She noted that she and
Mignon La Salle were the only representatives of the sophomore class.
Mignon, looking radiant self-possession in a smart old-rose suit and hat
to match, carried herself with the air of one whose success was already
assured. Her black eyes were snapping with excitement as they darted
from the professor to the two young men standing beside the piano. She
fingered her gray morocco music roll nervously, her thin fingers never
still.

Stepping over to the piano the professor seated himself. "That young
lady on the right, please come to the piano." The girl indicated, a
dignified senior, obeyed the summons, coolly handed the professor her
music, stationed herself at his side and awaited trial with the air of a
Spartan. After a short prelude she began to sing a popular air that was
at that time going the round of Sanford. She sang one verse, then the
professor dropped his hands from the keys, inquired her name, made a
memorandum on a pad, and, dismissing her, signaled another girl to take
her place.

The try-out proceeded with a business-like snap that bade fair to end it
with speedy commission. So far nothing startling in the way of voices
had been discovered. Constance listened to the various girl soloists and
wondered if she could do as well as they. Mignon leaned far forward with
breathless interest. She was firmly convinced that her singing would
create a sensation. When at last her turn came, she walked boldly
forward. Professor Harmon smiled approval and encouragement. He desired
particularly to see her carry off the honor of the leading role. She
darted a lightning glance at Lawrence Armitage as she approached the
piano, but in his impassive features she could read neither approval nor
indifference.

She had chosen a French song, full of difficult runs and trills, and it
may be set down here to her credit that she sang it well. As her clear,
but somewhat unsympathetic voice rang out, a faint murmur of
approbation swept the