Saturdays she spent in recreation, but this day she had especially wished might be fair.  Aunt Marcia had predicted snow the night before, but Randy had laughingly refused to listen to it, preferring to believe that the sun would shine.

There was to be a fine concert in the afternoon, and Helen had secured tickets for Randy, Aunt Marcia and herself, and as this was the first concert that Randy had ever dreamed of attending, she was naturally anxious for a fine day.

“It blows a gale,” said Aunt Marcia, at the breakfast table.  “Really, Helen, if it is such a hurricane as this, I would not advise you to go this afternoon.”

“There are always concerts which are well worth attending,” said Helen, “so if it continues to blow and snow like this, I think we shall stay cosily at home and attend some other concert next Saturday.”

To Helen one concert more or less meant little; but Randy watched the sky with anxious eyes, and just before eleven, a tiny bit of blue sky was visible.  How she watched it!  At half past eleven it was a large blue opening, and when the soft chiming of the clock announced in silvery tones that twelve o’clock had arrived, there was no doubt that the afternoon would be fair.

Lunch was served earlier than usual, and Randy hastened to her room to dress for the concert.  Twice she stepped from the dressing case to the window to see if the blue sky was still visible, and when at last the sunlight lay upon the carpet she laughed, and pinning her blue hat with its soft feathers securely in place she hurried from the room and down the stairway where in the hall she waited for Helen.

Usually Randy thought it luxurious to nestle close to Helen in the carriage, but this afternoon she wished that she might have walked, just because her excitement made it difficult for her to placidly ride to the great hall where Miss Dayton had told her that she should hear the sweetest of music.  As they rode along, Randy wondered if all the carriages which she saw, were conveying their occupants to the concert, and she was conscious of a mild regret for pedestrians who were wending their way in an opposite direction.

“They are not to enjoy the concert,” she thought.

“A penny for what is in your mind, Randy,” said Helen, laying her hand upon Randy’s arm.

“I was just wondering how many of the people whom I see on foot and in carriages are going to the concert,” said Randy.

“Does the concert mean so much to you?” said Helen.

“I cannot tell you how much,” Randy answered, “but I have watched the clouds, and hoped it would be fair this afternoon, and when I saw the sunlight upon the floor, just before we started, I danced across my room and down the stairs to meet you.  I have heard you play and sing, oh, so sweetly, I have heard little Janie’s bird-like voice at home, and Sandy McLeod has often played his pipes for me, but to-day I am to hear the violins and listen to the great singer of whom you have told me.  Oh, I can hardly wait to get there, and to hear the music.”