"I don't know. Jealousy, I suppose. She's burning to sing but she can't. Sing, why she sets one's teeth on edge! It might be the sharpening of a knife on a grindstone. She would be a play actress, and Mrs. Barry at Drury Lane promised to help her, but they quarrelled. Sally wanted to be a great actress all at once, but you can't be, can you, sir?" She looked at the poet earnestly. Her large grey eyes were wonderfully expressive, and Gay did not at once answer. He was thinking how sweet was the face, and how musical and appealing the voice. "True, child, and that you should say it shows your good sense. Wait here a few minutes and then you shall take me to your mother." Gay crossed the room to his friends, and they talked together in low voices. Spiller and Leveridge had much to say--indeed it was to these two, who had practical knowledge of the theatre, to whom he appealed. Bolingbroke sat silently listening. Gay's project concerning his new found protegee was such as would only have entered into the brain of a dreamy and impecunious poet. He saw in Lavinia Fenton the making of a fine actress--not in tragedy but in comedy--and of an enchanting singer. But to be proficient she must be taught not only music, but how to pronounce the English language properly. She had to a certain extent picked up the accent of the vulgar. It was impossible, considering her surroundings and associations, to be otherwise. But proper treatment and proper companions would soon rid her of this defect. Both Spiller and Leveridge agreed she was fitted for the stage. But how was she to be educated? And what was the use of education while she was living in a Bedfordbury coffee house! "She must be sent to a boarding school and be among gentlefolk," declared Gay energetically. "Excellent," said Bolingbroke, speaking for the first time, "and may I ask who will pay for the inestimable privilege of placing her among the quality?" The irony in St. John's voice did not go unnoticed by Gay, but he continued bravely. "I will, if her mother won't." "You? My good friend, you can scarce keep yourself. But 'tis like you to add to the burden of debt round your neck rather than reduce it. Have you been left a fortune? Have your dead South Sea Shares come back to life?" "Nay, Bolingbroke, don't remind me of my folly," rejoined Gay, a little piqued. "We can't always be wise. Thou thyself--but let that pass, the future is the foundation of hope. Before long I shall be in funds. The 'Fables' will be in the booksellers' hands ere the month is out." "Oh, that's well. But the booksellers, though eager enough to sell their wares, are not so ready to pay the writer his due. Moreover if I know anything of John Gay, of a certainty all the money he puts in his pocket will go out of the hole at the other end."