“You will pardon my straightforwardness, won’t you? B-jerk. I could never pronounce that, you know.” “Whatever may be agreeable to you, madam, will be sure to please me.” “That is very well said. And you will find that it always pays to try to please me. And you wish to teach music? If you have no objection I will call my oldest daughter. She is an excellent judge of music, and if your playing meets with her approval, I will engage you, as my husband suggests, not to teach Edith, you understand, but my youngest child, Clara.” Halfdan bowed assent, and Mrs. Van Kirk rustled out into the hall where she rang a bell, and re-entered. A servant in dress-coat appeared, and again vanished as noiselessly as he had come. To our Norseman there was some thing weird and uncanny about these silent entrances and exits; he could hardly suppress a shudder. He had been accustomed to hear the clatter of people’s heels upon the bare floors, as they approached, and the audible crescendo of their footsteps gave one warning, and prevented one from being taken by surprise. While absorbed in these reflections, his senses must have been dormant; for just then Miss Edith Van Kirk entered, unheralded by anything but a hovering perfume, the effect of which was to lull him still deeper into his wondering abstraction. “Mr. Birch,” said Mrs. Van Kirk, “this is my daughter Miss Edith,” and as Halfdan sprang to his feet and bowed with visible embarrassment, she continued: “Edith, this is Mr. Daniel Birch, whom your father has sent here to know if he would be serviceable as a music teacher for Clara. And now, dear, you will have to decide about the merits of Mr. Birch. I don’t know enough about music to be anything of a judge.” “If Mr. Birch will be kind enough to play,” said Miss Edith with a languidly musical intonation,” I shall be happy to listen to him.”