At last Langly reached the studio, and might have known, had he been conversant with the habits of the great world, that a notable function was in progress thereabout by the numerous carriages, with fine horses and resplendent coachmen and footmen, that waited near by. In his earlier days Langly had hoped for pupils to instruct and thus increase his scanty income. He had cards printed--“Albert Langly,” in the centre, and “Teacher of Music”, in smaller type in the corner. These were never used, Langly not having the courage to push his inquiries for pupils and secure them. He, knowing Barney to be a fashionable man, had put some of these cards in his pocket, and, when the boy in buttons swung open the door, the bit of pasteboard was handed to him. The boy glanced at the card, dropped it into the receptacle that contained many others, and shouted the name up his stairway, wafting its ascent with a wave of his hand. The man who held aside the heavy drapery which covered the doorway bawled the name into the room, from which a confused murmur of conversation came, mingled now and then with a pleasing ripple of laughter. The ornamental living statue at the top of the stair gazed dreamily over Langly’s head as he mounted. Taking another card, the organist gave it to the man at the door. “I have not come to the ‘At Home,’” he said. “Would you give this to Mr. Hope and ask if he will see me for a moment. Tell him I called last night, and could not come earlier to-day.” The man took the card and disappeared behind the curtains. In an incredibly short time Barney came out, and his reception of the musician was bewilderingly effusive. “My dear fellow,” he cried, placing a hand on each shoulder of Langly, “can you play the piano? Of course you can. What a foolish question to ask! I always alight on my feet. Providence has dropped you down here, my boy, don’t you know. Here we have just sent out to scour Chelsea for a pianist, and here you drop right down from the skies, don’t you know. This is luck. Want to see me? Of course you do, and what’s more to the point, I want to see you, don’t you know! Now come right in. I’ve got the finest grand piano you ever fingered in your life--magnificent instrument--case designed by myself--told ’em to spare no expense, and they didn’t, don’t you know. Trust ’em for that. Now come in, come in.” “Mr. Hope, I did not come to play--I am in no condition for playing.” “Of course you didn’t come to play. That’s the beauty of it. You want something from me, now don’t you?” “Yes, and if you will give me a moment----”