Marjorie's Prelude, Evie's Nocturne, Stephanie's Mazurka, and Gertie's recitation all went off without a hitch, and received their due reward of appreciation. It was now Rona's turn. For a moment she grew pale as she mounted the platform, then the coral flushed back into her cheeks. She had no time to think of the audience. Miss Ledbury was already playing the opening bars:
"Come out, come out, my dearest dear! Come out and greet the sun!"
Mellow and tuneful as a blackbird's, Rona's clear rich young voice rang out, so fresh, so joyous, so natural, so full of the very spirit of maying and the glory of summer's return, that the visitors listened as one hearkens to the notes of a bird that is pouring forth its heart from a tree-top in the orchard. There was no mistake about the applause. Guests and girls clapped their hardest. Rona, all unwilling, was recalled, and made to sing an encore, and as she left the platform everybody felt that she had scored the triumph of the occasion.
"Glad the juniors weren't excluded. It's a knock-down for Steph," whispered Addie.
"Trust Miss Ledbury not to leave out Rona. She'll be our champion soloist now," returned Christine.
The rest of the little programme was soon finished, and the audience adjourned to the garden for tea. Stephanie, with a tray of raspberries and cream, came smilingly up to Lord and Lady Glyncraig, and, introducing herself, reminded them of the delightful visit she had paid to Plas Cafn. If they had really forgotten her, they had the good manners not to reveal the fact, and spoke to her kindly and pleasantly.
"By the by," said Lord Glyncraig, "where is your schoolfellow who sang so well just now? I don't see her on the lawn."
"Rona Mitchell? I suppose she is somewhere about," replied Stephanie casually.
"Do you happen to know if she comes from New Zealand?"
"I wonder if you could find her and bring her here? I should like very much to speak to her."
Stephanie could not refuse, though her errand was uncongenial. She could not imagine why an ex-Cabinet Minister should concern himself with a girl from the backwoods.
"Lord Glyncraig wants you; so hurry up, and don't keep him waiting," was the message she delivered, not too politely.