CHAPTER XXII.
THE OFFERING OF FIRST-FRUITS The concerto was finished! Finished, at least, as far as it was possible without rehearsing the effect with orchestra, and as Nan turned over the sheets of manuscript, thickly dotted with their medley of notes and rests and slurs, she was conscious of that glorious thrill of accomplishment which is the creative artist's recompense for long hours of work and sacrifice,--and for those black moments of discouragement and self-distrust which no true artist can escape.
She sat very quietly in the West Parlour, thinking of the concerto and of what she meant to do with it.

She was longing to show it to Sandy McBain, who would have a musician's comprehension of every bar, and she knew he would rejoice with her whole-heartedly over it.

But that would have to wait until after Roger had heard it.

The first-fruits, as it were, were to be offered to him.
She had it all planned out in her mind.

Roger was out hunting to-day, so that she had been able to add certain final touches to the concerto uninterrupted, and after dinner she proposed to carry him off to the West Parlour and play it to him.