ot take very long, and the concert followed immediately.

Marjorie's Prelude, Evie's Nocturne, Stephanie's Mazurka, and Gertie's
recitation all went off without a hitch, and received their due reward
of appreciation. It was now Rona's turn. For a moment she grew pale as
she mounted the platform, then the coral flushed back into her cheeks.
She had no time to think of the audience. Miss Ledbury was already
playing the opening bars:

"Come out, come out, my dearest dear!
Come out and greet the sun!"

Mellow and tuneful as a blackbird's, Rona's clear rich young voice rang
out, so fresh, so joyous, so natural, so full of the very spirit of
maying and the glory of summer's return, that the visitors listened as
one hearkens to the notes of a bird that is pouring forth its heart from
a tree-top in the orchard. There was no mistake about the applause.
Guests and girls clapped their hardest. Rona, all unwilling, was
recalled, and made to sing an encore, and as she left the platform
everybody felt that she had scored the triumph of the occasion.

"Glad the juniors weren't excluded. It's a knock-down for Steph,"
whispered Addie.

"Trust Miss Ledbury not to leave out Rona. She'll be our champion
soloist now," returned Christine.

The rest of the little programme was soon finished, and the audience
adjourned to the garden for tea. Stephanie, with a tray of raspberries
and cream, came smilingly up to Lord and Lady Glyncraig, and,
introducing herself, reminded them of the delightful visit she had paid
to Plas Cafn. If they had really forgotten her, they had the good
manners not to reveal the fact, and spoke to her kindly and pleasantly.

"By the by," said Lord Glyncraig, "where is your schoolfellow who sang
so well just now? I don't see her on the lawn."

"Rona Mitchell? I suppose she is somewhere about," replied Stephanie
casually.

"Do you happen to know if she comes from New Zealand?"

"Yes, she does."

"I wonder if you could find her and bring her here? I should like very
much to speak to her."

Stephanie could not refuse, though her errand was uncongenial. She could
not imagine why an ex-Cabinet Minister should concern himself with a
girl from the backwoods.

"Lord Glyncraig wants you; so hurry up, and don't keep him waiting," was
the message she delivered, not too politely.

Rona blushed furiously. She appeared on the very point of declining to
obey the summons.

"Go, dear," said Mrs. Stanton quietl