“You must pardon me that I don’t agree with you,” the Signor said, somewhat stiffly. “Miss Despard does not want flattery from me. She will get plenty of that by and by; but she does want teaching, _senza complimenti_, and that she shall have if she will take it. It rests with her whether or not she will take it. If she does take it as I would have her do--then,” said the Signor, with a gleam in his eyes of suppressed enthusiasm, “then I flatter myself----” Rollo was provoked. Though he was very sweet-tempered, he did not like to be crowed over in this way, and his pleasant hyperbole flattened out; besides, there is something in the presence of a young woman which makes men, ever so slightly pitted against each other, pugnacious. He laughed. “I see,” he said, “you won’t flatter Miss Despard, Rossinetti, but you flatter yourself.” “I will send you word about hours,” said the Signor hastily. “I beg your pardon, I did not quite catch your last observation. Good morning, Miss Despard. To-morrow or after to-morrow I shall hope to begin.” “Good-bye, for the moment; we shall meet later,” said Rollo, with a smile and a nod, turning to open the door for his--not rival certainly, but competitor. He opened the door and closed it behind the Signor with quite unnecessary attention, his face full of suppressed laughter and malicious satisfaction. Rollo felt that he remained master of the field. He came back to where Lottie, agitated and happy, was sitting, rubbing his hands with triumph. “The Signor is an excellent musician, but he is a prig, Miss Despard, if you will permit the word; and now that we have got rid of him,” said Rollo, dropping into that other seat beside her, “let me say----”