"I used to send them to Madame Varneckel's, in High Street; but she cheated me, and I send them now to the Quaker's, in Albemarle Square." "You sell them, then?" "Yes, of course; I should not work else. I do not love it." "They ought to give you a hundred guineas for those." "I have a hundred guineas already." "You have!" I quite startled her by the start I gave. I very nearly said, "Then why do you live up here?" but I felt, in time, that it would be rude. "Oh! I must get four hundred more, and that will take me two years, or perhaps three, unless my voice comes out like a flower." Here her baby-mouth burst into a smile most radiant,--a rose of light! "Oh, Miss Benette, everything you say is like one of the German stories,--a _Märchen_,[9] you know." "Oh, do you talk German? I love it. I always spoke it till I came to this city." "What a pity you came!--at least, I should have been very sorry if you had not come; but I mean, I should have thought you would like Germany best." "So I should, but I could not help coming; I was a baby when I came. Mr. Davy brought me over in his arms, and he was just as old then as I am now." "How very odd! Mr. Davy never told me he had brought you here." "Oh, no! he would not tell you all the good things he has done." "He has done me good,--quite as much good as he can have done to you; but I should so like to hear all about it." "You must not stay,--you _shall_ go," she answered, with her grave sweetness of voice and manner; "and if you are not in time to-day, we shall never practise again. I shall be very sorry, for I like to sing with you." I was not in time, and I got the nearest thing to a scolding from my mother, and a long reproof from Clo. She questioned me as to where I had been, and I was obliged to answer. The locality did not satisfy her; she said it was a low neighborhood, and one in which I might catch all sorts of diseases. I persisted that it was as high and dry as we were, and possessed an advantage over us in that it had better air, being, as it was, all but out in the fields. My mother was rather puzzled about the whole matter, but she declared her confidence in me, and I was contented, as she ever contents me. I was very grateful to her, and assured them all how superior was Miss Benette to all the members of the class. I also supplicated Millicent to accompany me the next time I should be allowed to go, that she might see the beautiful work. "I cannot go, my dear Charles," she returned. "If this young lady be what you yourself make her out to be, it would be taking a great liberty; and besides, she could not want me,--I do not sing in the class." But she looked very much as if she wished she did. "I just wish you would ask Mr. Davy about her, that's all." FOOTNOTES: