"It'll be the last time you'll see them for a long while, I guess." Chrystie, suddenly pensive, dropped back in the chair. "Um, it will. Before we see Pancha again it may be years. She's going abroad to study. But she's promised to write and tell us all about how she's getting on. And when she comes back--a real grand opera singer--won't I be in a state! I get all wrought up now thinking about it. If she makes her first appearance in New York I'm going on there to see her." "How long will it take--getting her ready, training her and teaching her?" "No one can tell exactly. People here who've heard her and know about those things say she has such a fine voice and is so quick and clever that she might go on the stage over there in a year or two. She's got a lot to learn of course; even the way I feel about her I can see she needs to be more educated. But no matter how long it takes she's going to be financed--that's what they call it--till she's finished and ready. Lorry's guaranteed that." "Lorry's awful grateful to them, isn't she?" "Lorry!" Chrystie's glance showed surprise at such a question. "She's ready to give them everything she has. She's not just grateful, she's _bowed down _with it. Why she advertised in all the papers for that doctor who saw me on the floor, and now she's found him she'd build him a whole hospital if he'd let her. Lorry's not like me. _She's_ got _deep_ feelings." The carriage, turning in at the gate, stopped the conversation, and Chrystie rose and sauntered to the top of the steps. Mother Burrage, in her new black silk mantle, bought through a catalogue, and a perfect fit, came up the path, Mark and Lorry behind her. Mark waved a greeting hand and Lorry called instructions--please tell Fong to bring out something cold to drink and tell Aunt Ellen and Mrs. Kirkham to come downstairs even if they were in their wrappers--they must be worn out shut up with the dressmaker all day. It was exactly the sort of thing Sadie knew she would say--and Mark only just off the train.