But the biggest surprise of all came when Bryan Ormond, who had stirred the musical circles of two worlds, took his place on the little country platform and played for them on his ’cello.  The Judge and Mrs. Ellis enjoyed it just as the Robbinses did.  It was a novel treat to hear the strains of Lizst and Chopin sounding in the purple silences of those old country hills, but when he had finished, Cynthy leaned over to Kit, who sat next to her and who was in an uplifted rhapsody of meditation.

“Do you suppose he’d be willing to play ‘Home, Sweet Home’ on that thing if we asked him to?  ‘Tain’t nothin’ but a big fiddle, is it?”

Before Kit could answer, Madame Ormond herself stood facing them on the veranda steps under the big yellow porch light, and instead of any grand-opera aria, her golden voice floated out for them, singing Cynthy’s favorite as surely it had never been sung before in Gilead.

After it was all over and the girls were in their own rooms, Kit stepped to Helen’s door for an extra match, and found her standing before the mirror, a long green velvet portiere draped around her shoulders, and a strip of gold braid banding her hair.  She turned around with quick embarrassment, and exclaimed breathlessly: 

“Oh, Kit, please don’t tell.  I was just trying to look like Isolde.  Madame Ormond has a photograph of herself dressed like this, and I was wondering if I ever would sing it.”

Kit wrapped her arms around her as she stood behind her, almost as if she would have protected her from any dizzy flights of fancy.

“You look more like Brunehilda the Golden-haired,” she said.  “There’s one thing about us Robbinses, nobody can say that we lack courage in our ambitions.”

“Oh, but Kit, Madame Ormond says that she is sure my voice will develop into something worth while.”

“Well, let’s hope so, anyhow,” Kit answered, practically, but with an affectionate squeeze that took away any offense from her words.  “You know that old favorite saying of Cousin Roxy’s, ’It’s better to aim at the stars and hit the bar post, than to aim at the bar post and hit the ground.’”

Helen turned around, an anxious look in her blue eyes.

“You’re always so matter-of-fact, Kit.  You see, I am fourteen now, and it’s about time I was having some kind of an ambition.  Isn’t there anything at all that you long to do more than anything in the world?  Something that you’ve thought and thought about for months and months until it became like a light ahead of you?”

Kit sat down on the edge of the bed and thought a minute.  Life had never presented itself to her in vistas.  She lived each day as it came with an unconquerable optimism, such as no one else except Cousin Roxy seemed to possess in the family.

“Don’t worry, Kit,” Mrs. Ellis was wont to say to her, cheerily.  “Good works and an abiding faith yoked up with a sense of humor will carry any one to the golden gates.”