"Well, considering that she is in my profession, of course I know something about her," said the little girl. "Confound it all!" he said, rather rudely. "Surely there is some difference between the bellows-blower and the organist." "Absolutely none," she answered--"merely a variation of the original theme!" As she spoke she knocked at the door of the chalet, and asked the old dame to give them some milk. They sat in the _Stube_, and the little girl looked about, and admired the spinning-wheel, and the quaint chairs, and the queer old jugs, and the pictures on the walls. "Ah, but you shall see the other room," the old peasant woman said, and she led them into a small apartment, which was evidently intended for a study. It bore evidences of unusual taste and care, and one could see that some loving hand had been trying to make it a real sanctum of refinement. There was even a small piano. A carved book-rack was fastened to the wall. The old dame did not speak at first; she gave her guests time to recover from the astonishment which she felt they must be experiencing; then she pointed proudly to the piano. "I bought that for my daughters," she said, with a strange mixture of sadness and triumph. "I wanted to keep them at home with me, and I saved and saved and got enough money to buy the piano. They had always wanted to have one, and I thought they would then stay with me. They liked music and books, and I knew they would be glad to have a room of their own where they might read and play and study; and so I gave them this corner." "Well, mother," asked the little girl, "and where are they this afternoon?" "Ah!" she answered sadly, "they did not care to stay. But it was natural enough; and I was foolish to grieve. Besides, they come to see me." "And then they play to you?" asked the little girl gently. "They say the piano is out of tune," the old dame said "I don’t know. Perhaps you can tell." The little girl sat down to the piano, and struck a few chords. "Yes," she said. "It is badly out of tune. Give me the tuning-hammer. I am sorry," she added, smiling at Oswald Everard, "but I cannot neglect my duty. Don’t wait for me." "I will wait for you," he said sullenly; and he went into the balcony and smoked his pipe, and tried to possess his soul in patience. When she had faithfully done her work, she played a few simple melodies, such as she knew the old woman would love and understand; and she turned away when she saw that the listener’s eyes were moist. "Play once again," the old woman whispered. "I am dreaming of beautiful things." So the little tuner touched the keys again with all the tenderness of an angel. "Tell your daughters," she said, as she rose to say good-bye, "that the piano is now in good tune. Then they will play to you the next time they come." "I shall always remember you, mademoiselle," the old woman said; and, almost unconsciously, she too took the childish face and kissed it.