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'"L'I'ke Antoniua‘s mother is of him. Her mother spoke half to herself.

Blanche drew hack and shook her hflfidt "He is a genius, He used to say that he was going to be a great violinist and he is." Her brown eyes grew reminiscent. "He always gut what he went alter." She i)l\.|Hl‘iI’:d, then added in a matter-of-fact tone,

:I‘hey.say New York is mad about him since he’s come hack from Vienna."

"Yes I know. We got word to- dfly that he'd he able to come and play at the Festival," her mother announced proudly.

Blanche turned to hide the tell-tale colour that she {cit surge up from her toes. “It's getting late." She glanced at her watch. "I must get my songs. Mrs. Armytage will want me to sing."

HE knocked a crocheted tidy oi] ‘ a chair as she brushed by to the piano. Absent-mindediy she sorted her music and breathed nsigh oi’ relief when her mother withdrew. Why had she blushed at the mention of Anton- iun Schukoisksi Her face grew hot. The last time she had seen him had been before he leit with his Uncle to study in Europe—his last day at school. The teacher had gone out of the room for an instant hut in that instant Antoniun had jumped up. thrown his arms around her and kissed her. Into the paralyzing silence had walked the teacher. Bianche's four- teenayear-ald being bad prayed for the floor to open and swallow her. but Antonina sat unconcerned as ever» A huge figure, white race and sleepy dark eyes topped by a mass oi‘ black hair. She would never forget it even though it had happened six years ago. Blanche picked up some songs and slipped them into her music case. And she would never forget Anton~ iun's playing. At fifteen he had swayed the whole school. Once he drew his bow acrotu his violin he opened up a new world to his listeners while he himself seemed to become part of the pulsating rhythm. it was all right for him to come and play at the Festival. He was a Bo- hemian. She snapped her music cast- shut. She was tired oi‘ hearing about this Festival. New Canadian they called it. For weeks her mother and relations had talked oi‘ nothing else. In fact. all the Bohemians of the city had been coming to her mother to discuss what they woidd put in the iiantlicrait exliihlt. You would think Aunt Sophie's crocheted hetisprcati was one of the st-vt-a wonders oi‘ the world. And the way they dt-bated over the songs and ioiit-dant\>sA Which would best rcproscnt Bo- hemia? Was it possible that the uther natiutmiities wore making such a fuss about their contributions? Blanche stand up and carefully put on her white coat. She gitzcd at the rellcction of her white tigure in the hall mirror through the door~wu_\’. She iooitcd every inch in Canadian and she was«c\'eu to her name which she had changed from hiajana Moilu to its English equivalent Blanche Small. She pinL=ed—Her mother said in Buiwmian. Biajana meant happiness. The door-bell buzzed. She caught up her music case and hurried to answer it.

ALF an hour later seated at Mrs. :\rmytagc's table a ieelinr of delight ran over Blanche. Centred