"What would you," said Herr Slavska. "You must also study a little Mees Mademoiselle Mabel. You have great talent. Ah, if you could study in ze Bohemian school, Mees Mademoiselle. Hav I not said for years to these stupids stupids public, there is no school like to that of Prague? Now all ze violinists tumble tumble over ze one another to Sevcik to go. See, it is ze fate. If you could go to Prague, mademoiselle. Prague would make a great artiste of you." Here was living, wonderful life for Mabel! If Herr Slavska thought so much of her, why should she not have lessons in London? Mr. Leighton never received such a letter as he had from her next day. If was full of thanks for his having made her play so much and go to concerts when she was young. "Now I really know the literature of music. It’s the little slippy bits of technique that I’m not up in. I saw every one of them come out and hit me in the eye when I played for Herr Slavska. Do you think I could really stay and take lessons, dear papa? It would prime me for such a lot. I’ve often thought about Cuthbert for instance, that it must be so jolly for him to feel primed. And after knowing life here, I’d only be more contented at home. It isn’t that one can’t be bored in London. I think you can far far more than anywhere. If you saw that girl with the pink bow! She only dresses and dresses, one costume for the morning, another for the afternoon and so on. I suppose she has been taught to be a perfect lady. The girls in our house aren’t the crowd that believe in being like men or anything of that sort. They want to get married if they meet a nice enough husband. But nobody wants to get left, and it’s so nice to be primed for that. I’ve sometimes felt I might one day be ’left,’ and it’s awful. I shouldn’t mind so much if I had a profession. Jean is like a new girl. She’s full of breathings and ’my method’ and all that kind of thing. And she has to have an egg flip every morning at eleven if you please. I’m longing to have a master who orders me egg flip, but they don’t do that for piano, do they? "Oh, please, papa, say you don’t care for us for six months, and let us do you some credit at last. We were just little _potty_ players at Ridgetown...." Mr. Leighton took a mild attack of influenza on the strength of this, but he was infinitely pleased at the enthusiasm of Mabel. Mrs. Leighton got into the Aunt Katharine mood, where such "goings on" seemed iniquitous. "I don’t see why you should pay so much money to keep them out of their own home," said she. By next post, she sent a hamper of cakes to the girls. Then came a letter from Mr. Leighton, which Mabel locked in a little morocco case along with some other treasures, "to keep for ever."