"Oh, I suppose you would not call a little girl an artist if she were as clever as possible. There is a little girl at the class who sits very near me. She is a great favorite of Miss Benette. Such a curious child, Millicent! I could not endure her till yesterday evening. She was there when I went to practise, all ready dressed for the theatre. She looked a most lovely thing,--not like a person at all, but as if she could fly; and she wore such beautiful clothes!" Millicent was evidently very much surprised. "She lives with Miss Benette, then, Charles?" "Oh, no; for I asked her, and she said she wished she did. I should rather think somebody or other is unkind to her, for Miss Benette seems to pity her so much. Well, I was going to tell you, Millicent, she danced! Oh, it was beyond everything! You never saw anything so exquisite. I could hardly watch her about the room; she quite swam, and turned her eyes upward. She looked quite different from what she was at the class." "I should think so. I have always heard that stage dancing is very fascinating, but I have never seen it, you know; and I do not think mother would like you to see her often, for she considers you too young to go to a theatre at all." "Why should I be?" "I don't know all her reasons, but the chief one I should suspect to be, is that it does not close until very late, and that the ballet is the last thing of all in the entertainment." "Yes, I know the ballet. Laura does dance in the ballet, she told me so. But she danced in the daylight when I saw her, so there could be no harm in it." "No harm! There is no harm in what is beautiful; but mother likes you to be fresh for everything you do in the daytime, and that cannot be unless you sleep early, no less than well. She asked me the other day whether I did not think you looked very pale the mornings after the classes." "Oh, what did you say?" "I said, 'He is always pale, dear mother, but he never looks so refreshed by any sleep as when he comes down those mornings, I think.'" "Dear Millicent! you are so kind, I shall never forget it. Now do come and call upon Miss Benette." "My dear Charles, I have never been introduced to her." "How formal, to be sure! She would be so glad if we went; she would love you directly,--everybody does." "I do not wish they should, Charles. You must know very well I had better keep away. I do not belong to the class, and if she lives alone, she of course prefers not to be intruded upon by strangers." "Of course not, generally. I am sure she ought not to live alone. She must be wanting somebody to speak to sometimes." "You are determined she shall have you, at all events." "Oh, no! I am nothing to her, I know; but I can sing, so she likes me to go." "I suppose she is quite a woman, Charles?" "Oh, yes! she is fourteen." "My dear Charles, she cannot live alone. She is but a child, then; I thought her so much older than that." "Oh! did not Mr. Davy say so the other night?"