The Worcester people, who were accustomed to hear the finest singers, and looked upon their city as the head centre for all that was best in music, wondered what this little country girl could do in that line to interest them. It would probably be some simple ditty, sung either in a nasal or loud, harsh strain, with contortions of the body; but they were well bred, and must listen and affect to be pleased. Some were still talking in low tones when Louie struck a few notes upon the piano and began, quietly, without contortions of body or face, and without any apparent effort, except that the cords of her throat expanded and stood out full and round, when, in the chorus, her voice rose higher and clearer and was more and more like a bird’s, or many birds’, making some of the audience look around to see if a stray robin or canary had not alighted near them and was joining in the song. The music-room was so far from the dancing-room that one did not interfere with the other, but not so far that the clear, ringing notes were not heard by the dancers above the sounds of violin and horn; and, before she was through, half of those not dancing were crowding around the music-room to catch a sight of the singer. “It’s the girl who saved the bank. She must be a marvel,” they said, as they saw her bowing in acknowledgment of the storm of applause which greeted her when the song was finished. Among them was Fred Lansing, whose hands were nearly blistered, so loud and long-continued were his encores as he made his way to the front until he stood very near to her. He had been persuaded to waltz with a girl from Boston, who tried to make him a pillow, but he drew back from her and was so awkward every way besides getting his feet entangled in her dress that she was quite as glad as he when it was over. He knew Louie was singing and was impatient to get to her. “Sing it again. I never heard anything like it,” he said as he at last reached her side. “Yes, sing it again,” Miss Percy said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Louie sang it again, better than at first, it seemed to those who heard her, and this time she had for her audience the whole party, for the dancing had ceased, and musicians and all were listening to her. There were cheers and clapping of hands and bravoes heard on all sides when she was through, with a call for more. But Louie had done enough. Her brain was reeling with the vociferous applause, and a pallor was setting about her mouth, which Miss Percy was quick to see. “Come with me. You need some fresh air after this,” she said, and taking Louie’s hand she led her out upon the veranda, where she made her sit down, while she stood over her and asked, “Where did you learn all this?”