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I assume that the parents of all the little musicians were immensely proud and excited. Certainly, mine were, especially Mother when Miss Lee included Tid and me. We were to play a duet, a Spanish dance by Moszkowski. We practiced for hours until, I thought, we not only were letter perfect but had thoroughly memorized our respective parts. I was to play the melody and my sister the bass.

As the day of the concert approached, I began feeling twinges of nervousness. Perhaps it was a sense of foreboding.

The great Saturday came. Mother fussed over us, smothing our white dresses, wrapping our curls around her fingers to set them, and arranging and re-arranging our hair ribbons. Satisfied at last, she put us in the surry and Father drove to the clubhouse. The auditorium, I noticed, was completely filled. We were taken to an anteroom to await our turn. The audience of course applauded furiously as each of Miss Lee's little darlings ended his performance and either bowed or curtseyed. Finally, the