ten curtain calls, to give
the tenor another chance. Again she rested in her dressing-room, and
again ventured forth for the last, and to her most difficult, part of
the entertainment.

Two of the classics she played, then, upon insistent calls from the
audience for more, nodded to the orchestra and struck into her old
medley of southern airs. As the plaintive notes of "The Old Folks At
Home" echoed and reechoed through the theater, Dorothy watched the
effect on her audience, and saw that many handkerchiefs were used as
the sadder strains were played. "Old Black Joe" produced much the
same effect, and "Dixie" aroused them to cheers which increased as
the girl played "The Star Bangled Banner" and, finally, "Home, Sweet
Home."

Again and again the curtain descended, only to rise again, as the
girl bowed her acknowledgments to the great audience that had
received her with such marked expressions of approval. Then, to her
dressing-room she went, to find that Aunt Betty and her friends had
reached the stage through an entrance back of their box, and were
awaiting her.

"Oh, auntie, auntie!" was all she could say, as she threw herself
into the arms of her aged relative and sobbed through sheer joy.

"My dear, it is the triumph of your life. I am indeed proud to call
you my own."

"And she wasn't one tiny bit scared," said Molly.

"Shows you don't know what you're talking about," Dorothy replied,
with some spirit. "Herr Deichenberg had all he could do to induce me
to leave my dressing-room. Let the announcement sound as absurd as
it may, I was literally scared to death."

"If you can play like that when you're literally scared to death,"
said Molly, "I wish someone would scare me."

"Here's Mr. Ludlow," said Jim. "Let's hear what he has to say."

"Mr. Ludlow is about the happiest man in New York to-night," said the
manager, "realizing, as he does, that he has discovered, with the aid
of Herr Deichenberg, a young lady who is destined to set the whole
country afire with her playing. Miss Calvert, I congratulate you most
heartily. It was the finest thing of its kind I have ever heard in my
long theatrical experience."

Dorothy choked up and could not speak as she took his hand.

"Don't try to thank me," he went on, observing her embarrassment. "It
is I who should thank you. And now, I know you are anxious to return
to your hotel. I shall see you in the morning before you leave for
home and discuss with you our fut