te Bach, too,
nasty dry stuff--and I knew what he was up to. He glared at me through
his spectacles for a while and then mumbled out:

"You may kiss me before you go." Not much, I thought, and told him so.
He rang a bell. The servant came. "Send my wife down. Schnell, du." She
hesitated and he yelled out, "Dummkopf" and then turned to me and
smiled. The old monkey had forgotten that he had introduced me to Frau
Klug two days before. In a minute I heard the swish of a silk dress and
a fine-looking old lady entered. I was introduced to--what do you think?
Frau Klug, please. I nearly fell over, for I remembered well the
frightened-looking German girl--a pretty girl, too, only dressed
_rotten_. Well, I got out the best I could--I couldn't talk German or
Balakian--a hideous language, full of coughing and barking sounds--so I
bowed and got out. Now comes the funny part of it, Bella. Every time the
old fool tries to kiss me I ask him to introduce me to his wife, and he
invariably answers: "What, you have not met my wife?" and rings for the
ugly servant who stands grinning until I really expect her to say "Which
one?" but she never does. I've counted seventeen so far, all sizes, ages
and complexions.

The class says they are old pupils who couldn't pay their bills, so
Kluggy got a mortgage on them, and they have to stay with him until they
work the mortgage off by sewing, washing, cooking and teaching
beginners. I've not seen them all yet, and Anne Sypher, from Cleveland,
swears that there is a dungeon in the house full of girls from the
eighteenth century who hadn't money enough to pay for their lessons. I'm
sure ugly Babette, the servant, is an old pupil, for one day I sneaked
into the dining-room and heard her playing the Bella Capricciosa, by
Hummel, on an upright piano that was almost falling apart. Heavens! how
she started when she saw me! The old lady he introduced me to the second
time was a pupil of Steibelt's, and she played the "Storm" for us in
class when the professor was sick. She must have been good-looking. Her
fingers were quite lively. Honest, it is the joke of Balak, and we girls
have grown so sensitive on the subject that we never walk out in a
crowd, for the young men at the corners call out, "Hello, there goes the
new crop for 1902." It is very embarrassing.

Bella, I want to tell you something. Swear that you will never tell my
father or mother. I don't give a rap for music; I hate it, but I like
the y