She had never seen the big hall lighted before, and the row of lights at the front of the stage dazzled her eyes for a minute so that she could hardly open them.
Almost as if in a dream she heard Mr. Vondergrift’s voice whispering to her to hurry, and she advanced toward the centre of the stage and tried to collect her scattered senses.
As the orchestra changed to the opening bars of the prelude to her song, Marion became more composed and was able to look about a little.
What kind of a place was she in? Her eyes were wide open now as she asked herself the question.
Men and women, scores of them, were seated all over the hall, and before them were small tables loaded with bottles and glasses, while men with white aprons moved swiftly between them, carrying trays which contained more glasses and bottles.
A whiff of villainous tobacco smoke floated to her nostrils, and just then the opening chord of her song was struck. Marion closed her eyes and commenced her song.
There was hardly a sound in the house while the young girl sang, and the silence helped her to concentrate her thoughts on the inspiration of her song, which was her sister Dollie.
It was a simple ballad, filled with pathos and love, and Marion’s exquisite voice thrilled even the most callous of her hearers.
As the last note died away, there was silence for a moment, then the audience rose to its feet and fairly yelled its “Bravos!”
“You must go back, they are encoring you,” cried Mr. Vondergrift, meeting her in the wings.