slightly in acknowledgment of the reception she received. Never before
had he seen such a beautiful woman, and his heart went out to her at
once. What would Whyn say when she saw her? he asked himself. Then a
doubt flashed into his mind. Would this marvellous woman listen to
him? Would she be willing to go all the way to Hillcrest to sing to a
helpless girl? He felt his courage slowly oozing away and he almost
wished that he did not have to speak to her. Would she have anything
to say to him? he wondered. He noted her dress; how beautiful it was!
And her face, he could see it quite plainly, was sweet, and yet sad,
just as Whyn had described it from her brother's letter.

Rod was presently aroused from his meditation by the sweetest sound he
ever heard. He thought there must be a bird singing somewhere on the
stage. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was dreaming. But, no, it was
only the woman standing before him, and she was singing. As he
listened to her he could not help thinking of the fields in Hillcrest,
of the birds and flowers, which he knew and loved. And thus his
thoughts would wander every time she sang. It was so strange that he
could not account for it, and he wondered if Phil felt the same way.
Now he was tucked in his little bed at home, with the wind sobbing
around the house, and the rain beating against the window. Then, he
saw soldiers marching, and horses galloping, such as he had seen in
pictures. Once he was sure that he was lying on the grass beneath the
shade of an old tree with the bees humming around him, and the
grasshoppers playing upon their funny musical saws. He felt angry
whenever the people made a noise, and drove the pictures away. He
didn't think of the singer now, of how she was dressed, or what she
looked like, and he didn't remember even one word she had uttered. He
hardly realised that he was in the big Opera House with the crowd of
people about him.