The pathos in the voice enchained the audience. They sat listening with rapt attention, and when the last verse was arrived at Mrs. Brown could bear it no longer but boldly took out her handkerchief and wiped her tears away. At the close Dent looked round at the audience with a triumphant smile on his lips. He had not been wrong in his estimation of the fine quality of his protégé's voice; she had reduced Mrs. Brown to tears; that was a conquest in itself. Meg left no time for an encore, but at once began, "The Last Rose of Summer." When this was finished the servants' delight could be contained no longer, they begged for it once more, and when the girl had stepped off her improvised platform, Dent rose to formally propose a vote of thanks. Meanwhile Meg was quite unconscious of sundry winks and signs from Mrs. Brown, as one of the younger servants, after leaving the kitchen, returned holding a tidy hat behind her back till she had an opportunity of changing it with the old battered one that lay on the floor. It was only as Meg turned round to go that she saw what had happened, but instead of the delight that the cook and her fellow servant had been anticipating, the angry colour rushed into the girl's face as she exclaimed— "Where's my hat?" "My dear," explained the cook, "don't say nothing about it. We don't want no thanks. I've had that nice hat in my box for a long time to send to my niece in the shires, but you may have it and welcome." Dent, who was mysteriously whispering to the servants as he went round collecting a few coins from them to add to his master's florin, did not see the distress on the girl's face, but Mrs. Brown did, and was puzzled. "What is it, my dear?" she asked. "Don't you like it?" "It was Jem's hat," murmured Meg. "I'd a deal rather have it than a new one, though it's mighty kind of you to think of givin' it to me." "Jem's hat?" "Yes, my pal Jem. I wouldn't lose it for all the world. You see," she added looking up at Mrs. Brown with something like tears in her eyes. "It's just all I've got." "Is this young man your brother? I thought you was alone in the world?" said the cook. "No, he's not my brother. He's my pal," answered the girl. Mrs. Brown put her hand on Meg's shoulder. "Then take my advice, my girl, and don't have nought to do with him. I expect he's a worthless young man, isn't he?" "He's the best man in the world," said the girl. "If it hadn't been for Jem I guess I should be dead by this time." Then seeing her questioner's perplexed face she added, "You don't understand, but it's all right. Don't you be afeared for me." When a moment or two afterwards Dent placed five shillings in her hand, two of which he explained came from his master, Meg coloured. "I don't think, it fair," she said looking down at the silver. "I've not sung as well as all that. You've paid me too high." "Not a bit of it," said Dent. "You ought to make your fortune with that voice of yours, my girl."