sense to touch with finger-tip
the back of Mirah's, and with protruded lip he said--

"Not for great tasks. No high roofs. We are no skylarks. We must be
modest." Klesmer paused here. And Mab ceased to think him adorable: "as
if Mirah had shown the least sign of conceit!"

Mirah was silent, knowing that there was a specific opinion to be
waited for, and Klesmer presently went on--"I would not advise--I would
not further your singing in any larger space than a private
drawing-room. But you will do there. And here in London that is one of
the best careers open. Lessons will follow. Will you come and sing at a
private concert at my house on Wednesday?"

"Oh, I shall be grateful," said Mirah, putting her hands together
devoutly. "I would rather get my bread in that way than by anything
more public. I will try to improve. What should I work at most?"

Klesmer made a preliminary answer in noises which sounded like words
bitten in two and swallowed before they were half out, shaking his
fingers the while, before he said, quite distinctly, "I shall introduce
you to Astorga: he is the foster-father of good singing and will give
you advice." Then addressing Mrs. Meyrick, he added, "Mrs. Klesmer will
call before Wednesday, with your permission."

"We shall feel that to be a great kindness," said Mrs. Meyrick.

"You will sing to her," said Klesmer, turning again to Mirah. "She is a
thorough musician, and has a soul with more ears to it than you will
often get in a musician. Your singing will satisfy her:--

'Vor den Wissenden sich stellen;'

you know the rest?"

"'Sicher ist's in alien Faellen.'"

said Mirah, promptly. And Klesmer saying "Schoen!" put out his hand
again as a good-bye.

He had certainly chosen the most delicate way of praising Mirah, and
the Meyrick girls had now given him all their esteem. But imagine Mab's
feeling when suddenly fixing his eyes on her, he said decisively, "That
young lady is musical, I see!" She was a mere blush and sense of
scorching.

"Yes," said Mirah, on her behalf. "And she has a touch."

"Oh, please, Mirah--a scramble, not a touch," said Mab, in anguish,
with a horrible fear of what the next thing might be: this dreadful
divining personage--evidently Satan in gray trousers--might order her
to sit down to the piano, and her heart was like molten wax in the
midst of her. But this was cheap payment for her amazed joy when
Klesmer said benignantly, turning to Mrs. Meyrick, "Wi