is chair and said
resolutely, "I am not in the mood, Miss Kronborg. I have something on my
mind, and I must talk to you. When do you intend to go home?"

Thea turned to him in surprise. "The first of June, about. Mr. Larsen
will not need me after that, and I have not much money ahead. I shall
work hard this summer, though."

"And to-day is the first of May; May-day." Harsanyi leaned forward, his
elbows on his knees, his hands locked between them. "Yes, I must talk to
you about something. I have asked Madison Bowers to let me bring you to
him on Thursday, at your usual lesson-time. He is the best vocal teacher
in Chicago, and it is time you began to work seriously with your voice."

Thea's brow wrinkled. "You mean take lessons of Bowers?"

Harsanyi nodded, without lifting his head.

"But I can't, Mr. Harsanyi. I haven't got the time, and, besides--" she
blushed and drew her shoulders up stiffly--"besides, I can't afford to
pay two teachers." Thea felt that she had blurted this out in the worst
possible way, and she turned back to the keyboard to hide her chagrin.

"I know that. I don't mean that you shall pay two teachers. After you go
to Bowers you will not need me. I need scarcely tell you that I shan't
be happy at losing you."

Thea turned to him, hurt and angry. "But I don't want to go to Bowers. I
don't want to leave you. What's the matter? Don't I work hard enough?
I'm sure you teach people that don't try half as hard."

Harsanyi rose to his feet. "Don't misunderstand me, Miss Kronborg. You
interest me more than any pupil I have. I have been thinking for months
about what you ought to do, since that night when you first sang for
me." He walked over to the window, turned, and came toward her again. "I
believe that your voice is worth all that you can put into it. I have
not come to this decision rashly. I have studied you, and I have become
more and more convinced, against my own desires. I cannot make a singer
of you, so it was my business to find a man who could. I have even
consulted Theodore Thomas about it."

"But suppose I don't want to be a singer? I want to study with you.
What's the matter? Do you really think I've no talent? Can't I be a
pianist?"

Harsanyi paced up and down the long rug in front of her. "My girl, you
are very talented. You could be a pianist, a good one. But the early
training of a pianist, such a pianist as you would want to be, must be
something tremendous. He must have had n