professor of music who taught her has sent her name in."

"What are the Cameron scholarships?" asked the Old Lady.

"Well, I suppose you have heard of Andrew Cameron, the
millionaire?" said the minister's wife, serenely unconscious
that she was causing the very bones of the Old Lady's family
skeleton to jangle in their closet.

Into the Old Lady's white face came a sudden faint stain of
colour, as if a rough hand had struck her cheek.

"Yes, I've heard of him," she said.

"Well, it seems that he had a daughter, who was a very
beautiful girl, and whom he idolized. She had a fine voice,
and he was going to send her abroad to have it trained. And
she died. It nearly broke his heart, I understand. But ever
since, he sends one young girl away to Europe every year for a
thorough musical education under the best teachers--in memory
of his daughter. He has sent nine or ten already; but I fear
there isn't much chance for Sylvia Gray, and she doesn't think
there is herself."

"Why not?" asked the Old Lady spiritedly. "I am sure that
there can be few voices equal to Miss Gray's."

"Very true. But you see, these so-called scholarships are
private affairs, dependent solely on the whim and choice of
Andrew Cameron himself. Of course, when a girl has friends who