he senior class, by reason
of the popularity of the Phi Sigma Tau, was considered the class of
classes.

"We'll have to put out a 'Standing Room Only' sign," declared Anne
Pierson, as she viewed the packed house through a hole in the curtain.

The fateful night had arrived, and Anne, Eleanor and Grace stood in a
group on the stage, while Anne industriously took note of the audience.

"Let me look for a minute, Anne," said Grace. "I don't believe there'll
be standing room," she remarked, as she stepped aside to give Eleanor a
chance to peer out.

"Come on, girls," called Nora O'Malley, as a burst of applause sounded
from the other side of the curtain. "It's half past eight, and the
curtain will go up in about two minutes."

The three girls scurried off the stage, the Glee Club filed on and
arranged themselves, and the curtain rose.

Each number was applauded to the echo and in every instance the audience
clamored for an encore.

As the time for Eleanor's first solo drew near, Anne and Grace felt
their hearts beat a little faster. Nora was giving an encore to her
first song. Eleanor was to follow her. As she stood in the wing her
violin under her arm, Grace thought she had never appeared more
beautiful.

Her gown was of some soft, white material and rather simply made. "I
never like to wear fussy things when I play," she had confided to the
girls.

Jessica stood directly behind her. She was to act as accompanist.

Nora O'Malley sang the concluding line of her song, favored the audience
with a saucy little nod and made her exit.

"Come on, Eleanor," said Jessica. "It's our turn."

Well toward the back of the hall sat Miss Nevin, wearing a look of
mingled anxiety and pain. Beside her sat a dark, distinguished man in
the prime of life, who never took his eyes off the stage.

As one of the senior girls who had charge of the programme stepped
forward and announced, "Solo, Miss Eleanor Savelli," he drew a deep
breath, and such a look of longing crept into his eyes that Miss Nevin
understood for the first time something of the loneliness of which he
had written.

He covered his eyes with his hand as though reluctant to look. Then the
full, soft notes of the violin were carried to his ears, and with a
smothered cry of exultation he raised his eyes and saw for the first
time his own child in her gown of white with the instrument he loved at
her throat, while her slender hand drew the bow with the true skill of
t