Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1905-12-30


came too fast for comfort. Next
her sat Marguerite Oils, her pink and
white prettiness set eff to the best
advantage by her becoming costume.
If she was nervous no one would
have suspected it, as she smiled
archly up into the conductors face.
He glanced at her girlish beauty, the
soft curves of her cheeks and the
waves of her sunny hair; then at Mar
ion, silent, intense, almost grim in
her earnestness.
How could he know why one looked
forbidding tle other graciousness it
self? He shrugged his shoulders.
'The music ISIS not all, even here.
Miss Oils is a picture-the audience
they will be better pleased" he
murmured to himself
Then aloud, Ladies and gentle
men, it is with pleasure I have to
announce to you that the aria from
the Inf1ammatus will be sung by Miss
Marguerite Oils. Arise, Miss Oils.
Ladies and gentlemen, behold the
prima donna of the Philharmonic So
ciety."
OF course she rose and bowed and
smiled bewitchingly, and the chorus
applauded vigorously, while Marion
sat, wretched and heart-sick, yet
calm, still holding her music in hands
that did not tremble..
The professor, glancing in her d.
rection with little guilty feeling at
his heart, treasured himself: "She
does not care"
Then they sang, and Marguerite's
voice came out clear and sweet on
every difficult passage. Marion had
never heard her do SO well. The in
spiration of the occasion lent her new
strength, and the number closed amid
a deafening round Of applause from
the chorus.
The rest Of the rehearsal passed
off uneventfully, and at the close Ma
rion hurried away from the condo
lences and comments of her friends.
Supper was waiting when she got
home, but even her favorite cream
puffs failed to comfort her.
81 late Marguerite Ollis!" she Sob
bed, stormily. "She has everything
without an effort, while I, who ask
only for chance to work my own
way am denied that"
She's a stuck-up snip!" declared
Anna, wiping her own eyes, while Al
fred clenched his fists as if he longed
to fight it out with somebody.
Marion's mother did not say any
thing at first, only stroked the brown
head on her shoulder and kissed the
hot hand that trembled in her grasp,
while Mr.. Wood said tendenly: There
dearie, there!" as if his eldest born
were once more a wee fodder with
broken doll
1t was after the table had been
cleared and they sat about the room
with book or needlework that the
mother gave her little talk. Marion
had subsidized into silence after her
outbreak, and Mrs. Wood looked SYM
patheically at the flashing eyes and
still quivering lips.
"Be fair, daughter" she said.
Don't do yourself the injustice of
being unjust to Miss Oils. She was
honestly chosen and deserves no
blame. We add to our own unhap-
piness when we try to satisfy our an
ger by finding fault with others as in
nocent as we are"
"But she doesn't need this chance,
mother, and l do"
''True, dear, yet you couldn't expect
her to refuse the invitation because Of
that, especially when she is ignorant
of the fact You will look at the mat
ter differently after the keenness OF
your disappointment has worn off. !
can trust you to be good, dear, and
when you find the chance to do lit
tie kindness for Miss Oils, it will
help you more than it will her.
''Kindness-never!" declared Ma
rion, emphatically. But Mrs. Wood
only smiled wisely and waited.
The evening of the concert arrived.
Again the great stage was occupied
by orchestra and singers. Evening
dresses and f1uttering ribbons trans
formed the platform into rainbow
of delicate lines, with a background
of somber black where the gentlemen
sat.
Between the conductors rostrum
and the auditorium was seated Mad
anne Scarlati, the visiting soloist,
whose fame had attracted an unusual
ly large audience.
In the front row of sopranos sat
Marguerite, respondent in silk and
pearls. Beside her sat Marion, with
out jewels or laces, yet looking very
sweet in her simple gown Of white,
with her abundant brown hair ar
ranged in a coronal and in its thick
braids a single crimson rose.
The opening chorus was sung mag
nifcently, and at last Madame Scar
lati rose. High and clear, her voice
scared away over the audience, sweet
and soft it rippled back, to end in a
hurst of melody that carried hearts