g to the concert," said Randy.

"Does the concert mean so much to you?" said Helen.

"I cannot tell you how much," Randy answered, "but I have watched the
clouds, and hoped it would be fair this afternoon, and when I saw the
sunlight upon the floor, just before we started, I danced across my room
and down the stairs to meet you. I have heard you play and sing, oh, so
sweetly, I have heard little Janie's bird-like voice at home, and Sandy
McLeod has often played his pipes for me, but to-day I am to hear the
violins and listen to the great singer of whom you have told me. Oh, I can
hardly wait to get there, and to hear the music."

"Well you haven't much longer to wait," said Helen, as the carriage
stopped before the entrance to the great hall.

As the crowd surged toward the doorway, Randy began to think that all the
people whom she had seen and many more had decided that the concert was
too great a treat to miss.

Once in their seats, Randy looked about her, and found great delight in
studying the faces and costumes of the vast audience. She smiled as she
thought of that summer day when in old Nathan Lawton's front parlor she
took part in the school exhibition and received the prize in the presence
of an assemblage of fifty persons, and considered it a "crowd."

A slight commotion caused Randy to turn just in time to see the members of
the great orchestra taking their places. Then some late arrivals attracted
her attention. Two ladies with a beautiful little girl were seating
themselves on the opposite side of the aisle, and the child's face, with
her soft curls and brown eyes reminded Randy of the little sister at home.
Then a strange hush pervaded the hall, and as the director swayed his
baton, twenty bows were drawn across the strings of as many violins in one
grand chord of sweetest harmony.

Randy started, and laid her hand upon Helen's, while with parted lips she
gazed at the musicians who were making the fairy-like music which so
enthralled her. Her sensitive lips quivered, and her breath came quickly
as the orchestra played the varying movements of a grand sonata.

Enraptured with the music, tears filled her eyes during the gentle adagio,
and a bright smile chased away the tears when the next movement, a
brilliant polacca, filled the hall with its tripping measures. When the
last chord had died away Randy turned toward Helen and whispered, "Oh, I
never heard anything like that! Will they play again?"

W