"I am to stay, and I’m to have lessons from any Vollendollenvallejowski I like to name," she cried to Jean. The two rocked on a bamboo chair in happy abandonment till some explosive crackling sounds warned them that joy had its limits. Every girl in the house was invited into the tea "with cakes from home." "What a love of a father and a duck of a mother we’ve got," said the convalescent homesick Jean. CHAPTER XX The Shilling Seats Jean owed a great debt to Isobel for having told her of Slavska, and acknowledged it extravagantly in every letter. Now there was the difficulty of finding a piano teacher; but here Mabel explained to Jean as nearly as she could why she could not seek the advice of Isobel. Isobel, if they knew, already lamented that she had given away Slavska, it was such an opening to the girls for being independent of her experience. Herr Slavska would recommend no one in London. "They all play for the stupids," he declared. At last in a better mood, he remembered a certain "Monsieur, Monsieur--Green." Mabel laughed at the drop to a plain English name. "Ah no! Smile not," said Herr Slavska. "His mother, of the Latin race, and his father, mark you, a Kelt! What wonder of a result! I will introduce you to the Sir, Herr, Monsieur Green. He is young, but of Leschetitzky. I recommend him." There seemed nothing more to be said, except that two girls in the club knew Mr. Green’s playing and said that no one else really existed in London. A great deal underlay Herr Slavska’s "I recommend him." Mabel met one of the keenest enthusiasts of her life when she met Mr. Green. "Isn’t it queer," said Jean afterwards, who, in spite of egg flips and methods, was in a dejected mood that day, "isn’t it queer that an old boy like Herr Slavska and a young one like Mr. Green should both have the same delusions. About music, I mean, being so keen on it." "You can’t call that voice of Herr Slavska’s a delusion." Mabel had been much impressed by what Mr. Green had said. "Mark you, at such an age, there is no voice like Slavska’s in existence. Your sister is fortunate in learning his method." "That’s what Mr. Slavska said," Jean had answered amiably, and it had started Mr. Green off on his lessons with Mabel in a cheerful mood. "The Herr is not sparing of his compliments when it is himself that is concerned," he said, laughing loudly. "But he can afford to tell the truth." It seemed lovely to Mabel, this tribute from one man to another. "More than your old Slavska said of my man," she told Jean. Mr. Green was a distracting teacher. He pulled Mabel’s playing down to decimals. Where she had formerly found her effects by merely feeling them, he subtracted feeling until she imagined she could not play piano at all. Then he began to build up her technique like a builder adding bricks to a wall.