“I’m always seeing myself,” continued Lilian, with an amused smile, “standing gracefully on a platform and all fluffy with laces and glittering with jewels and decorations. Then I sing, while everybody is breathless or in tears, you know, and when I stop, there is a thunder of applause. They’re all wild about the ‘glorious creature,’ and then I come out and bow, again and again, and carry off loads of roses, and get a thousand dollars a night!” “Greedy creature! Will you sing at our church for nothing?” “Yes, indeed, Hilary, out of friendship for you; and you’ll put in the Saturday paper that the famous prima donna is to sing at the morning service. Then I will say, ‘O, no, Dr. Lancaster, I could not accept anything for the exquisite pleasure of singing to your congregation!’” “Listen to Lil’s big words! How noble!” murmured Hilary. “Thanks.” “I’m not worrying,” said Betty, “about those far away days, but I do love to dream about what I want to do most; and don’t you remember?—Miss Randolph said that if we didn’t have dreams we might never try to make anything great come true.” “O, yes,” answered Cathalina, “but after all, I’m glad that we’re just girls now, and coming back, if nothing happens to prevent, to dear old Greycliff.” THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's Cathalina at Greycliff, by Harriet Pyne Grove