might penetrate the barriers between herself and one man’s heart.  She did not desire to sing on the present occasion.  She did not wish to annoy him by the contrast between her song and Miss Wildmere’s performance, feeling that he would naturally take sides in his thoughts with the woman outvied; nor had she any desire to inflict upon her rival the disparagement that must follow; but something in Miss Wildmere’s self-satisfied and patronizing tone had touched her quick spirit, and the arrogant girl should receive the lesson she had invited.  But, as Madge sang, the noble art soon lifted her above all lower thoughts, and she forgot everything but Graydon and the hope of her heart.  She sang for him alone, as she had learned to sing for him alone.

In spite of her explanations he looked at her with the same old wonder and perplexity of which he had been conscious from the first.  If she had merely sung with correctness and taste, like Miss Wildmere, there would have been nothing to disturb his complacent admiration; but now he almost felt like springing to her side with the words, “What is it, Madge?  Tell me all.”

As the last lovely notes ceased, only the unthinking children applauded.  From the others there was entreaty.

“Please sing again, Miss Alden,” said the gentleman who had first asked her.  “I am an old man, and can’t hope for many more such rich pleasures.  I am not an amateur, and know only the music that reaches my heart.”

“Sing something from ‘Lohengrin,’ Madge,” said Henry Muir, quietly.  She glanced at him, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

Herr Brachmann had trained her thoroughly in some of Wagner’s difficult music, and she gave them a selection which so far surpassed the easy melodies of Verdi, which Miss Wildmere had sung, that the latter sat pale and incensed, yet not daring to show her chagrin.  This music was received with unbounded applause, and then a little voice piped, “The big folks have had more’n their turn; now give us a reg’lar Mother Goose.”

This request was received with acclamations, and soon ripples of laughter broke over the crowd in all directions, and then one of the adoring boys who were usually worshipping near cried out, “A reel, Miss Alden, a reel, and let us finish up with a high old dance before dinner.”

Graydon seized Miss Wildmere’s hand, boys made profound bows to their mothers, husbands dragged their protesting wives out upon the floor.  Soon nearly all ages and heights were in the two long lines, many feet already keeping time to Madge’s rollicking strains.  Never had such a dance been known before in the house, for the very genius and inspiration of mirth seemed to be in the piano.  The people were laughing half the time at the odd medley of tunes and improvisations that Madge invoked, and gray-bearded men indulged in some of the antics that they had thought forgotten a quarter of a century before.  As the last couple at the head of the lines was glancing down the archway of raised and clasped hands, the lively strains ceased, and the dancers swarmed out, with thanks and congratulations upon their lips, only to see Madge flying up the stairway.