listening and delighted with Anita's progress, came in to the
drawing-room as Neroda was shouting bravos in rapture over the way his
best pupil caught the soul of music in her delicate hands and made it
prisoner.

"Good-morning, Mr. Neroda," said Mrs. Fortescue in her pretty and
affable manner--Mrs. Fortescue would have been affable with an ogre--"I
must ask you to come this evening and play my daughter's
accompaniments. We are having a large dinner and I should like Anita
to play for us after dinner."

"Certainly, madam," answered Neroda, who, like everybody else, was
anxious to do Mrs. Fortescue's smiling bidding, "I am proud of the
signorina's playing."

"Mr. Broussard is coming to the dinner," continued Mrs. Fortescue after
a moment. "He sings so charmingly. It would be delightful to have him
sing and Anita to play a violin obligato."

"Admirable! Admirable!" cried Neroda, "Mr. Broussard has a superb
voice--much too good for an amateur."

Mrs. Fortescue laughed; Broussard's beautiful voice was one of the
Colonel's grave objections to him. Anita remained silent, but Mrs.
Fortescue noticed the happy smile on her lips, as she picked a little
air upon the strings; she longed to show off her accomplishments before
Broussard and to accompany his singing seemed a little incursion into
Paradise.

It was arranged that Neroda should come at half-past nine and have the