Near them, was seated a party of young persons deeply interested in the performance. One especially attracted him--the deep blue eyes, the profusion of soft brown hair, the sweet expressive mouth, were certainly like those of his little friend; but in the tall, graceful girl before him, he scarcely could believe the evidence of his senses, when the silvery voice revealed fully Madeline Hamilton. He had not seen her for four years, and the sparkling, bewitching child had merged into the lovely, blushing maiden of sixteen. During one of the recesses between the acts she arose, and stood facing the party near her. Roland caught her eye; she looked earnestly, then smiled, and, with a bow of high-bred courtesy, recognized her old friend. Roland felt that Madeline was no longer a child; he returned her bow with equal politeness. Next morning, at breakfast, Helen discussed with her father all her arrangements for an evening party the following week. Roland made one of the company, and watched anxiously for each arrival, expecting every minute to see the friend of his childhood. A ringing silvery laugh, as tripping feet passed up the staircase to deposit her wrappings, announced the presence of Madeline, the little Mad-cap of the sea-shore. She entered--a simple girlish dress became the young maiden; for she remembered that she was yet a school-girl. She bowed gracefully when introduced to the company--a bright blush and a smile acknowledged the acquaintance of Roland Bruce. He advanced--"How are you, Miss Madeline? It has been a long time since I saw you. When did you arrive in New York?" A casting down of the eyes, and the slightest quiver of a mischievous smile, crossed the bright young face. "Last week, Mr. Bruce. I am spending my vacation with my friend, Miss Trevor." "When do you expect to return?" "In about ten days. One more year will complete my school-life." "Then for the gay world, I suppose, Miss Madeline;" and Roland smiled somewhat sadly. "Yes, that is our intention. We shall spend my first winter in New York." "You have not forgotten the lessons at Woodcliff, I trust, Miss Madeline?" Madeline turned her face away, and bending her eyes upon the ground, said, "I must speak the truth; I fear, that those lessons have lost much of their power." "Are you happy now as then, Miss Madeline?" "Not when I stop to think; but I have not much time for that." Listening seriously to Roland's earnest words, with eyes bent, and hands folded reverently as of yore, the Roland and Madeline of Maple Lane School stood once more revealed. "Madeline, the piano is waiting for you," said Helen; and leading her young friend to the instrument, she interrupted the conversation.