es of the spell-bound students,
many of whom had never before heard Constance sing. Then her gaze
centered upon Mignon. Anger, surprise and chagrin swept the elfish face
of the French girl. She read vocalization more flawless than her own, as
well as greater sweetness and an intense sympathy, which she lacked, in
the full, sweet, rounded tones that issued from her rival's lips. This
was the voice of a great artist.

Professor Harmon turned from the piano as the last golden note died away
and held out his hand. "Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Stevens.
You----" His voice was drowned in tumult of noisy and fervent
approbation on the part of the delighted audience. Boys and girls forgot
the dignity of the occasion, and the next instant the surprised
Constance found herself surrounded by as admiring a throng as ever did
honor to a triumphant basket-ball or football star. If signs were true
presagers of victory, if the united acclamation of the majority counted,
then Constance Stevens had, indeed, come into her own.

CHAPTER XXV

AN UNHAPPY PRINCESS

It took Professor Harmon several minutes to reduce the noisy enthusiasts
to the decorous state of order in which they had entered the gymnasium.
Far from being elated over her triumph, Constance Stevens received the
ovation with the shyness of a child brought before an audience against
its will to speak its first piece. She heaved an audible sigh of relief
when at last she was left to herself and retired behind Marjorie and her
friends with a flushed, embarrassed face.

The boys' try-out was shortened considerably by the fact that there were
fewer singers to be heard. When it was over it was announced that Hal
Macy had carried off the role of the poor, neglected son, which was in
reality the male lead. The Crane was selected for the king, while
freckle-faced Daniel Seabrooke was chosen for the jester, greatly to his
delight and surprise. There was an emphatic round of applause when
Professor Harmon announced that Constance Stevens had been selected to
sing the Princess. Ellen Seymour captured the role of the queen, and to
Mignon La Salle was allotted the part of the disagreeable step-sister.
It was second in importance to that of the Princess, but the French
girl's face was a study as she received the announcement. She tried to
smile, but the baffled anger and keen disappointment which was hers
blazed forth from her elfish eyes. The minor parts were soon given ou