Jinny had the best soprano voice in the Glee Club. Miss Taylor had said so herself. Miss Taylor, with her ideas and her ideals and her gray hair in an untidy bun. Why, Miss Taylor had taught music to Jinny's father. He called her the last of the Dedicated Old Maids, but he meant it respectfully. And how everybody worked for her! Because of Miss Taylor the Spring Musical was a big tradition at Newton High, like beating Central at football. The whole school worked on it. The cast and orchestra were excused from study hall and music so they could rehearse during school hours. The art and sewing and shop classes made the costumes and scenery. And best of all, both town papers sent their regular critics and gave it a big write-up with pictures. Jinny gave her pillow a final thump. She almost hoped Elena Nicholas would fall over the footlights and fracture a leg.

Next day, before the first rehearsal, Larry elbowed his way into the group around Jinny and pointed. "That's her!" he hissed ungrammatically. "Over by the piano with Miss Taylor"

They all stared. So that was Elena Nicholas. A tall, pale girl, with heavy braids around her head. "I'd sure like to know what she's got that Jinny hasn't," said Jeff belligerently.

Me, too, thought Jinny grimly.

They found out, Elena Nicholas had a voice—a voice of a sort not often heard in high school auditoriums. It had beauty, maturity, an amazing range, and was something altogether different, Jinny realized with a sinking heart, from her own true, sweet soprano.

Even Jeff was impressed. "How come she never tried out for Glee Club?" he demanded.

"Probably think she's too good for us," said Marge. "Get a load of her withdrawn, 'I-am-the-star' attitude. She never talks to any of us."

"Okay so she can sing," Dode said, watching Elena through narrowed eyes, "But wait till she has to stand up and act. That'll be the day."

Dode was right. Elena was unbelievably stiff and awkward. Miss Taylor, who threw herself into the job of coaching with such fervor that her progress around the stage was marked by a trail of dropped hairpins, coaxed and cajoled and stormed.

Brother what a chore," complained Jeff, who had the tenor lead opposite Elena. "Especially that duet in the second act. 'Relax,' says Miss Taylor. 'Smile,' says Miss Taylor. And Elena rlaxes and smiles like a—like a wooden stepladder."