And lifting his glass, he cried, "Here's to our beautiful and talented hostess--the patron saint of all the arts--the friend of all true artists." In the quiet that followed the enthusiastic endorsement of the distinguished gentleman's words, another voice said, "If it's a girl, can't we see her ?" "Yes, yes," came from several.

"Please, Mrs.Taine, bring her out." "Have her play again." "Will she ?" Mrs.Taine laughed.

"Certainly, she will.

That's what she's here for--to amuse you." And, again, as she spoke, her eyes met the eyes of Aaron King.
At her signal, a servant left the room.

A moment later, the mountain girl, dressed in simple white, with no jewel or ornament other than a rose in her soft, brown hair, stood before that company.