esponded. "A little inspiration from them
can go a long way toward helping us accomplish our tasks."

The lesson went unusually well that morning.

Dorothy was practicing certain pieces now, which she was to render at
the concert, the selections having been made from among the classics
by the Herr professor. There were two pieces, and a third--a medley
of old Southern airs--was to be held in readiness, though the music
master warned his pupil not to be discouraged if she did not receive
a second encore.

The Herr was even more particular than was his wont--if such a thing
were possible. The missing of the fraction of a beat--the slightest
error in execution or technique--he would correct at once, making her
play over a certain bar time and again, until her playing was to his
entire satisfaction. Then he would encourage her with a nod of
approval, and go on to the next.

But Dorothy did not mind this; rather, she revelled in it. Her heart
was in her prospective career as a violinist, and she was willing to
undergo any discomfort if she could but attain her ambition.

On the morning before the concert Herr Deichenberg made his last call
at Bellvieu--before the event. By this time Dorothy had learned well
her lessons, and the Herr required that she run over each piece but
once. Her execution was perfect--not a note marred or slurred--and he
expressed his satisfaction in glowing terms.

"You vill now take a vell-deserved rest," he said. "Please do not
touch a violin until you arrive at the theater to-morrow evening."

"I can hardly wait for to-morrow evening to come, Herr," she replied.
The eagerness in her voice caused the music master to smile.

"Ah, but you must not be too anxious, young lady. Better it iss to
get de concert off your mind for a vhile. Vhat iss de use of playing
de whole affair over in your mind, until you are sick und tired of
it? No, no; don't do it. Vait till you get de reality."

"As well try to banish my dear Aunt Betty from my thoughts," was the
answer of the smiling girl.

"Ah, vell, vhen you are as old as I, those t'ings vill not vorry
you."

"Ah, but Herr, you are worried yourself--I can see it."

"Vhat! Me vorried? Oh, my dear young lady, no; my composure is
perfect--perfect."

"You are worrying right now."

"Over vhat, please?"

"Well, first you are wondering whether the confidence reposed by you
in one Miss Dorothy Calvert will be justified when she faces a great
audience f