something--I haven't the faintest idea what--then _she_ appeared, and it
was all over. And there's the doorbell, and the tenor, I suppose; so of
course it's all over now," she sighed, rising to go down-stairs.

As it chanced, however, it was not the tenor, but a message from him--a
message that brought dire consternation to the Chairman of the Committee
of Arrangements. The tenor had thrown up his part. He could not take it;
it was too difficult. He felt that this should be told--at once rather
than to worry along for another week or two, and then give up. So he had
told it.

"But what shall we do, Miss Greggory?" appealed Billy. "It _is_ a hard
part, you know; but if Mr. Tobey can't take it, I don't know who can. We
don't want to hire a singer for it, if we can help it. The profits
are to go to the Home for Crippled Children, you know," she explained,
turning to Arkwright, "and we decided to hire only the accompanist."

An odd expression flitted across Miss Greggory's face.

"Mr. Arkwright used to sing--tenor," she observed quietly.

"As if he didn't now--a perfectly glorious tenor," retorted Billy. "But
as if _he_ would take _this!_"

For only a brief moment did Arkwright hesitate; then blandly he
suggested:

"Suppose you try him, and see."

Billy sat suddenly erect.

"Would you, really? _Could_ you--take the time, and all?" she cried.

"Yes, I think I would--under the circumstances," he smiled. "I think
I could, too, though I might not be able to attend all the rehearsals.
Still, if I find I have to ask permission, I'll endeavor to convince
the powers-that-be that singing in this operetta will be just the
stepping-stone I need to success in Grand Opera."

"Oh, if you only would take it," breathed Billy, "we'd be so glad!"

"Well," said Arkwright, his eyes on Billy's frankly delighted face, "as
I said before--under the circumstances I think I would."

"Thank you! Then it's all beautifully settled," rejoiced Billy, with a
happy sigh; and unconsciously she gave Alice Greggory's hand near her a
little pat.

In Billy's mind the "circumstances" of Arkwright's acceptance of the
part were Alice Greggory and her position as accompanist, of course.
Billy would have been surprised indeed--and dismayed--had she known that
in Arkwright's mind the "circumstances" were herself, and the fact that
she, too, had a part in the operetta, necessitating her presence at
rehearsals, and hinting at a delightful comradeship im