m, I know _exactly_ what he wants," reflected
Rosemary. "I could teach someone else, though I could not do it myself.
There are all my books of exercises and studies packed away at home; I'd
made up my mind never to look at them again. Oh, dear! It will be like
opening a wound to get them out. Shall I, or shall I not? The girl seems
contented enough as she is."

It takes some qualifications for sainthood to hold open for another the
door of a paradise you may not enter yourself. As Rosemary's mind
see-sawed up and down, her eyes fell on a quotation printed on a
calendar which hung in her room.

"Four things come not back to man or woman--the sped arrow, the spoken
word, the past life, and the neglected opportunity."

"It _is_ an opportunity," she mused; "an opportunity of helping such as
probably I shall never find again in the whole of my life. Rosemary
Doris Forrester, you've got to buck up and not be an envious beast.
You're going to unpack that music, and teach that girl all you know. _I_
say so, the real _I_--not the horrid, mean, jealous, selfish,
contemptible part of me. Here goes! I'll write and propose it, and send
the letter up at once by Lorraine, so as to burn my boats. I hope to
goodness Claudia will have the sense to snatch at such a good offer. I
shan't tell anybody a word about it beforehand."

Lorraine, who always went willingly on any errand to Windy Howe, handed
over her sister's impulsive letter, quite unwitting of its contents.
Claudia read it, flushed, and caught her breath with a sharp little cry.
She turned to her friend with eyes like two stars.

"Do you know what Rosemary proposes?" she asked.

"No."

"Why, she actually offers to teach me to sing! And oh, Lorraine! She
hints that, if I try hard, she would write to Signor Arezzo and ask him
to hear me, and perhaps he would be able to give me a scholarship for
the college, and I could go and study."

It was Lorraine's turn to assimilate the surprise.

"Good old Rosemary! She's a trump card! But I thought you didn't care
about winning scholarships, Claudia. I believe you missed sending in
that application on purpose."

Claudia blushed consciously.

"That was altogether different. I hated the idea of teaching
kindergarten. But to study singing! I'd _love_ it! You know how fond I
am of music--as fond as Morland is, really, only I never had his fingers
for the piano. I shouldn't be much of a player, I know; but to sing!
It's my ideal! I