The morning call., 1894-05-06

singer. he. too. lent his aid. and did not
leave off until his companion sank ex-
hausted on the ground.
"Ob," she laughed, what delightful
work for very short time! come along
| let us go into that brown chalet y0nder
| and ask for some milk. l am simply
parched with thirst. Thank you, but
| prefer to carry my own flowers.
What an independent little lady you
are." he said.
''It Is quite necessary in our profession.
l can assure you." she said, with tone
of mischief in her voice. "That reminds
me that my profession is evidently not
| looked upon with any favor by the visitors
of the hotel. l am heartbroSen to think
| that [ have not won the esteem OF tDat
| lady in the billycock hat. What Will she
say to you for coming out with me? And
what win she say of me for allowing you
to come? wonder whether she will say,
How unfemiDine! L wish l could hear
her!"
II don't suppose you care" he said.
"You seem to be wild little bird"
II don't care what a person Of that de-
scription says" replied his companion.
What on earth made you contradict the
major at dinner last night" he asked. Il
was not at the table. but some one told me
of the incident and felt very sorry about
:, What could you know of Miss Thyra
Flowerdew"
"Well, considering that she is in my
sdd ol efhsse th little sbGw sr
"ConfounG it all J! he said. rather
rudeIy. "Surely there is some difference
between the bellows-Dlower and the or
ganist?"
"a Absolutely nome" she answered.
''merelv a variation of the original
theme"
AS she spoke she knocked at the door
ba nha or nd n IN
give them some milk. They sat in the
stube and the little girl looked about and
admired the spinning-wheel and the
Quaint chairs and the queer old jugs and
the pictures on the wall.
"Ah, but you shall see the other room,"
the old peasant woman said, and she LED
them into small apartment, which was
evidently intended for a study. It bore
evidences of unusual taste and care. and
one could see that some loving hand had
been trying to make it real sanctum OF
refinement. There was even a small
piano. A carved book-rack was fastened
to the wall.
The old dame did not speak at first; she
gave her guests time to recover from the
astonishment which she felt they must be
experiencing; then she pointed proudly to
the piano.
sT bought that for my daughters, she
said, with a strange mixture of sadness
and triumph; II wanted to keep them at
home with me, and | saved and saved and
got enough money to buy the piano. They
had always wanted TO have one. and l
thought they would then stay with me.
They liked music and books, and knew
they would be glad to have room of their
own. where they might read and play and
study, and 80 l gave them this corner"
"Well, mother" asked the little girl,
"and where are they this afternoon ?"
"Ahw she answered, sadly. they did
not care to stay. But it was natural
enough; and / was foolish to grieve. Be-
sides, they come to see me-
"And then they play 10 you?" asked the
girl gently.
"They say the piano Is out of tune" the
old dame said. Il don't Know Perhaps
you can tell"
The little girl sat down to the piano and
struck few chords.
YES" she said. ''it is badly out of tune
Give M the tuning hammer. | am sorry"
she added, smiling at Oswald Everard.
"but cannot neglect my duty. Don't wait
for me-"
81 will walt for you." he said sullenly,
and he went into the balcony and smoked
his pipe and tried to possess his soul 10
patience.
When she had faithfully done her work
she played a few simple melodies such as
she knew the old woman would love
whe she saw that the listeners eyes were
moist.
"Play once again." the old woman
whispered. 81 am dreaming Of beautiful
things"
So the little tuner touched the keys
again with all the tenderness of an angel.
''Tel your daughters" she said. as she
rose to say good-by, that the piano is now
in good tune. Then they will play to you
the next time they come"
81 shall always rememb ber you, m mademoi-
selle," the old woman said, and, almost
unconsciously. she too took the childish
face and kissed it..
Oswald Everard was waiting for his
companion in the bayfield,, and when she
apologized to him for this little professional
in ntermeZZo, as she called it, he recovered
from his sulkiness and readjusted his
nerves, which the noise Of the tuning had
somewhat disturbed.
ut is very good of you to tune the old
DANES piano." he said, looking at her with
renewed interest
"Some one had to do it, of course" she
answered. brightly. ''and / am glad the
chance fell to me. What q comfort it Is to
think That the next time those daughters
come to see her they will play to her, and
make her very happy-pOor old dear"
you puzzle me greatly" be said. II
cannot for the life Of me think what made
you choose your calling. You must have
many gifts-any one who talks with you
must see that at once; and you play quite
nicely, too.
Il am sorrv that my profession sticks in
your throat" she answered. do be
thankful that / am nothing worse than a
tuner. For might be something worse
a snob. for instance"
And so speaking she dashed after but
terfy and left him to recover from her
words. He was conscious of having de-
served a reproof and when at last he over
took her he said as much and asked for
her kind indulgence.
81 forgive you," she said laughingy.
You and are not looking at things from
the same point of view; but we have had
splendid morning together. and have
enjoyed every minute of it. And to-Inor-
row | go on my way"
And tomorrow you CO." he repeated.
"Can it not be the day after tomorrow ?"
II am bird of passage" she said"
shaking her head. "You must not seek
to detain me. / have taken my rest, and
off go to other climes."
They had arrived at the hotel. and Os-
wald Everard saw no more of his CON-
panon until the evening. when she came
down rather late for table d bote. She
hurried over her dinner and went into the