only, but many times. But I presume you will not be here much longer?"

"I may go any day now," Bettina replied, nervously fingering the buckle of her belt. "I hope we may meet at some future time. Perhaps I may come back next summer; I have taken a great fancy to the place." She accompanied Theo on her walk along the avenue. The sunlight streaming through the branches of the trees was rich in color, the shadows were deepening, and the birds were singing their sunset song.

"My brother and I will call on you after the concert, Miss Germaine. It is our loss that we have not met you before. Madam Denman, our Grand Master's mother, wishes very much to know you. She wondered if, being younger, you would not waive ceremony and come to her, after Mr. Denman calls as he intends doing. He thinks, as do we all, that it is very kind of you to sing at the concert. It is to be regretted that it comes so near the close of your visit, but if you return another year we will make plans for many good times." Her eyes were luminous with the thought of the happiness of the coming year. They shook hands at the avenue gates.

"So until Wednesday evening, good-by," said Theo, looking into the clear, fathomless blue eyes. Where had she seen those eyes before? Where? Good-by, Miss Hayden, this afternoon has been a greater joy to me than you think."

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So the two girls parted, to go for a time their separate ways, until Love, with magic touch, should draw them together again in a friendship warm as love, a love like friendship, steadfast and true.

CHAPTER XII

A FATEFUL EVENING

T

HE pavilion on the evening of the Rebekahs' garden fête was like a bit of fairyland. The strings of Chinese lanterns hanging from festoons of evergreen extended from the arches overhead to the trees bordering the platform. The stage was hung with draperies of pink and green, while garlands of sweet peas were artistically looped below the footlights, across the front of the stage. The night was clear, and sweet with the freshness that comes after a shower which had fallen in the early forenoon. "Rebekah weather," said Uncle Poly, as he called attention to the clearing skies and the brilliancy of the sunlight.

The attendance promised to tax the capacity of the pavilion to its utmost; the cause was a popular one, nearly every man in the community who cared for fraternal societies being an Odd Fellow and the desire for a Home was widespread. The stables of the Arms were filled long before eight o'clock, and as the hour drew near, the street at the side was dotted with carriages, the horses tied to trees and fences.

Sapphire went early to the Norwood Arms to make her toilet. As the costume her grandmother had given her included white stockings and shoes to match, it was decided that she should dress at the Arms and avoid the long and possibly muddy walk when so suitable a place was near at hand. After being inspected by the entire assemblage, they all started out for the pavilion. Sapphire, her hand in Melissa's, took the lead. Miss Higgins, holding her head very high and with all the dignity of a drum major on parade, kept slightly in advance. The rest fell into line, two by two, Lorenzo with Diamond squirming in his arms, bringing up the rear.

The entertainment commenced on time with an overture played by a string orchestra, composed mostly of members of the Order. Then followed a tenor solo by Philip Grayson, which was enthusiastically received and encore responded to.

Sapphire was next on the list, and from the moment she stepped on the stage, there was no doubt that the house was with her. Her recital of "The Battle of Blenheim " by Southey, was something exceptional in the annals of Norwood. She not only recited the battle, she fought it! The more the audience roared, the more earnestly the infant phenomena endeavored to portray the picture the poem described. When at the close, with fire in her eyes and tumultuous waves of her little thin arms, she declared that "It was a famous

victory," the applause that followed plainly indicated that Sapphire had scored a victory as well. Hands clapped long and loudly, and the small boy whistled and pounded with his heel on the floor. Under instructions from her teacher, whose bosom was swelling with pride, Sapphire returned to the stage with all the energy of a baseball player on a home run. She bowed and bowed, until, embarrassed by the continued applause, she said, "There ain't no more!" and ran quickly from the stage.

"You 'quitted yourself admirable," said Melissa. "I don't believe that Mrs. Leslie Carter herself, at your tender age, could have done better." Whereupon Cornelia proudly acquiesced, declaring that "De signs ob de zodium tol' no lies when dat chile was born." For the rest of the evening she hovered over her grandchild like a big black hen with one little brown chicken.

When number seven was reached there was a fluttering of programs and whispers of "Who is she? Do you know?" were heard on all sides. A round of applause greeted Theo Hayden as she walked across the stage to the piano. A moment later Miss Germaine appeared. She wore a gown of white crêpe de chine and a corsage bouquet of pink roses, the choicest blooms in Mr. Carter's conservatory. As she came gliding toward the footlights, looking out over them to the audience with the magnetic smile that had brought all New