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 gloves awkwardly; and beside her a little old spinster in an absurd gown of mauve taffeta adorned with cameos and coral pins. These two stood beside the musician, the one proud and smiling, the other a little frightened, as a bird might be.

It was all exciting. Thérèse waited on the edge of the throng until all had gone save the big handsome woman and the little spinster in mauve. Then she stepped forward and saw that Ellen recognized her.

"Ah," said Ellen, coldly. "Mrs. Callendar! Were you here too?"

Thérèse did not say that the concert was magnificent. She knew better than to add one more to the heap of garish compliments. She said, "It was the first time I have been where I could hear you. I knew you would do it some day. . . . You remember, I told you so."

There was a look in Ellen's eye which said, "Ah! You forgot me for years. Now that I am successful everything is different." Then drawing her black cloak about her crimson dress, she laid a hand on the arm of the big, handsome woman.

"This is my mother . . . Mrs. Callendar," she said. "And this is Miss Ogilvie, my first music teacher."

Mrs. Tolliver eyed Thérèse with suspicion, and Miss Ogilvie simpered and bowed.

"I came back to ask you to come home to supper with me," said Mrs. Callendar to Ellen. "We could have a sandwich and a glass of sherry and talk for a time. I've opened the house."

For a moment the air was filled with a sense of conflict. The suspicion of Hattie, as she saw her daughter slipping from her, rose into hostility. In the end she lost, for Ellen said, "Yes, I'll come for a little time." And then turning to her mother, she added, "You and Miss Ogilvie go to the Ritz. I'll come there later. Rebecca has ordered supper."

But it was not Thérèse Callendar who won. It was some one