ed at himself in the glass.

"If only this shine on my coat were transferred to my boots, what a
happy transformation!" thought Von Barwig. "Still, if that button on
my sleeve is transferred to my coat, it will restore the balance of
harmony," so Jenny's services were called into requisition.

"Where are you going this morning?" she asked as she stitched on the
button.

"To a new pupil," replied Von Barwig as carelessly as he could, though
his heart fairly bumped as he spoke. He did not like to speak of his
visitor of yesterday afternoon to others. It was too sacred a subject
to be mentioned in Houston Street.

"The young lady that came yesterday?" inquired Jenny, but Von Barwig
made no reply. Jenny looked at him closely; his silence chilled her.
There was an imperceptible change in him, she thought. She could not
say exactly what it was, but it seemed to her that when his eyes rested
on her it was no longer with the same glance of lingering affection
that he had always bestowed on her. Now he barely glanced at her, and
his eyes did not rest on her for a moment. The girl's sensitive nature
made her conscious that he did not think of her when he spoke to her.

"What's her name?" asked Jenny, after a long pause, during which Von
Barwig put on his cape coat. Once more he did not appear to hear her,
and Jenny repeated the question. "What's her name, Herr Von Barwig?"
This time she spoke with directness.

"I beg your pardon," said Von Barwig, with unconscious dignity. It was
the old Leipsic conductor that spoke, and there was such unbending
sternness and severity in the tone of his voice, such coldness in his
eye, that Jenny shrank back and looked at him as if he had struck her.

"Oh, Herr Von Barwig," she gasped, and burst into tears.

"Jenny, Jenny, my little Jenny! What is it, what did I say?" he asked
in genuine distress. His thoughts had been miles away.

"I didn't mean to--to--be--rude," she sobbed. "I--I only--you looked
so--so happy! I--wanted to know."

"Come, come!" he said, taking her in his arms, and patting her
affectionately on the cheek. "Don't cry! I meant nothing, my child;
only I did not want to speak of matters that--that you could not
understand. Come, it is two o'clock, and I must go," and he kissed her
tenderly on the forehead. "You are all right now, eh?" he said, as she
smiled.

"Forgive me, won't you?" asked Jenny, who was now comforted. He still
loved her; that was al