The only two real musicians present glanced at each other, and a
gleam of amusement passed between them.

"It certainly would be useful, if necessary," said Jane.

"_I_ would 'stop the other part' and 'give you the note,'" said
Garth, demurely.

"I am sure you would," said Jane. "You are always so very kind. But
I prefer to keep the matter in my own hands."

"You realise the difficulty of making the voice carry in a place of
that size unless you can stand and face the audience?" Garth Dalmain
spoke anxiously. Jane was a special friend of his, and he had a
man's dislike of the idea of his chum failing in anything, publicly.

The same quiet smile dawned in Jane's eyes and passed to her lips as
when she had realised that her aunt meant her to volunteer in
Velma's place. She glanced around. Most of the party had wandered
off in twos and threes, some to the house, others back to the river.
She and Dal and Myra were practically alone. Her calm eyes were full
of quiet amusement as she steadfastly met the anxious look in
Garth's, and answered his question.

"Yes, I know. But the acoustic properties of the room are very
perfect, and I have learned to throw my voice. Perhaps you may not
know--in fact, how should you know?--but I have had the immense
privilege of studying with Madame Marchesi in Paris, and of keeping
up to the mark since by an occasional delightful hour with her no