The next morning was one of feverish excitement in the cottage on Pine Street. Mariposa could not settle herself to anything, at one moment trying her voice at the piano, at the next standing in front of her glass and putting on all her own and her mother’s hats in an effort to see in which she presented the most attractive appearance. She thrilled with hope for a space, then sank into a dead apathy of dejection. Lucy was quietly encouraging, but the day was one of hidden anguish to her. The daughter, ignorant of the knowledge and the memories that were wringing the mother’s heart, wondered why Lucy was so confident of her winning Shackleton’s approval. As the hour came for her to go she wondered, too, at the marble pallor of her mother’s face, at the coldness of the hand that clung to hers in a lingering farewell. Lucy was giving back her child to the father who had deserted it and her. The excitement of the morning reached its climax when a carriage appeared at the curb with Mrs. Willers’ face at the window. The hour of fate had struck, and Mariposa, with a last kiss to her mother, ran down the steps feeling like one about to embark on a journey upon perilous seas in which lie enchanted islands. During the drive Mrs. Willers talked on outside matters. She was business-like and quiet to-day. Even her clothes seemed to partake of her practical mood and were inconspicuous and subdued. As the carriage turned down Mission Street she herself began to experience qualms. What if they had all been mistaken and the girl’s voice was nothing out of the ordinary? What a cruel disappointment, and with that sick, helpless mother! What she said was: “Now, here we are! Remember that you’ve got the finest voice Lepine’s ever likely to hear, and you’re going to sing your best.” They alighted, and as they turned into the flagged entrance that led to the foyer, Shackleton came forward to meet them. He looked older in the crude afternoon light, his face showing the lines that his fiercely-lived life had plowed in it. But he smiled reassuringly at Mariposa and pressed her hand. “Everything’s all ready,” he said; “Lepine’s put back a rehearsal for us, so we mustn’t keep him waiting. And are you all ready to surprise us?” he asked, as they walked together toward where the three steps led to the foyer. “I’m ready to do my best,” she answered; “a person can’t do more than that.” The answer pleased him, as everything she said did. He saw she was nervous, but that she was going to conquer herself. “Lots of grit,” he said to himself as he gave ear to a remark of Mrs. Willers’. “She won’t quit at the first obstacle.”