she nevertheless consecrated it to His service, and grew joyful over the thought that she had this talent to give.
In making her selections for the coming concert, she had with rare good taste kept in mind the character of the audience which would probably gather to listen, and the capacities of her helpers. She chose simple, tender melodies, narrative poems, such as appeal to the heart, with one or two wonderful solos, and this quartette, which was new and difficult, but full of power.
They sang it presently, for the first time; Claire and Alice Ansted, Harry Matthews and a friend of his who had been drawn in for the occasion. It was the first time that even her girls had heard Claire's voice in its power.
They said not a word when it was ended, but they looked at one another in a startled way, and presently Ruth Jennings apologized in under tone for its power over her:
"I'm sure I don't know what was the matter with me. I never cried before at the sound of music. I have read of people doing it, and I thought it rather absurd, but I could not help it. Girls, I wonder what the Ansteds think?"
What Alice Ansted thought might have been expressed, in part, in her first astonished comment:
"The idea of your singing in South Plains!"
However, she said more than that in the course of the evening; said things which gave Claire much more pleasure. For instance:
"How horridly out of order that little wretch is! Why don't you have it tuned? It would be a little more endurable then; or, at least, a little less intolerable. Our piano-tuner is coming out to-morrow, and I mean to send him down here. The idea of having nothing but a rickety chair for a music-stool! Louis, what has become of that piano-stool we used to have in our library in town? Did you store it with the other things? Well, just bring it out to-morrow. Miss Benedict will get another fall if she depends on this old chair any longer. What is that you are sitting on? A pile of old music-books, I declare! The whole thing is disgraceful. Miss Benedict, do you sing 'Easter Bells?' I should think it would just fit your voice. It runs so high that I can do nothing with it; but I wouldn't mind taking the alto with you. Louis, suppose you bring out the music to-morrow, and let her look at it."
And before the evening was over, it became evident to those girls that Miss Ansted was committed to the concert, at least. They were half-jealous, it is true. They had enjoyed having their prize all to themselves. Still, she had bloomed before them that evening into such an unexpected prize, that they were almost awed, and a little glad that her glorious voice should have such an appropriate setting as was found in Alice Ansted; and besides, it was a sort of a triumph to say: "Why, the Ansteds are going to help us at our concert! They have never sung in South Plains before!"