ich Randy had
sent with those which they had received from Phoebe Small.

"Randy says that she misses the folks at home, and her friends here at
school, but aside from that her letters are cheerful, and she feels that
she is getting on so rapidly that it makes her contented," said Molly
Wilson, "and she must enjoy the pleasant things which Miss Dayton plans
for her Saturdays."

"We miss Randy," said Belinda Babson, "but of course we're glad that she
is having such a lovely winter."

"She writes just as she talks, and when we get one of her letters it seems
as if she were with us," said Jemima.

"I didn't know what to make of Phoebe Small's last letter," said Dot
Marvin. "She commenced by saying that she could never do as she wished,
that she didn't like her roommate and that the two ladies who kept the
school watched them so closely that the girls could hardly breathe without
asking permission. Then she wrote, 'I don't want to say that I'm homesick
but,--' and then she signed her name. She didn't finish the sentence, but
there were two blistered places just above the name, as if the paper had
been wet, and I am sure that she was crying while she wrote."

Miss Gilman touched the bell, and the pupils took their places. Recess was
ended, and for the remainder of the forenoon, recitations occupied their
minds in place of the much discussed letters.

* * * * *

By the great fireplace heaped with blazing logs sat old Sandy McLeod
energetically tugging at the straps of his great "arctics."

"It's a cauld day, lass," he was saying to little Janie.

"Will it be too cauld to venture out an' meet the music maester?"

His eyes twinkled, for he well knew that Janie was wild to sing for this
man who would say if her voice were indeed worth training.

The teacher of whom Sandy spoke was a man well known in musical circles,
whose instruction was eagerly sought, and upon whose judgment one could
safely rely. He had been chosen director of a flourishing musical society
in a large town some miles distant from Sandy's home, and on those days
when he was present to direct rehearsals, he also tried the voices of
those who asked permission to join the vocal club. Sandy had one day asked
if he might bring little Janie to him, saying quietly,

"It's worth yer while, mon, ye ne'er heard sae blithe a voice as Janie's."

Half doubting, yet amused at the old Scotchman's manner, he had made an
appointment