----"

"She had no relatives," interrupted Mr. Stanton, "or I should have
asked them. Please discontinue the subject; it is by no means a
pleasant one. Good God, what a girl you are! I come to you with a
gift fit for a princess; and you, you ungrateful----"

Mr. Stanton looked at her with a look of intense anger, almost of
hatred; then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Helene returned to her room. She was quite thoughtful. "An early
marriage! Yes, the sooner the better!" She almost threw the necklace
among the many gifts that had been sent her. She wished her father had
not given it to her. It was evidently not in her to express the
gratitude he deserved and she was angry with herself that she was not
more grateful to him.

That afternoon when Von Barwig was admitted to her presence he saw a
pile of boxes, flowers, jewelry--gifts of all sorts on the piano. He
noticed also that the dolls were on the outside of the cabinet, instead
of inside, where she usually kept them.

"It's my birthday," she said in explanation. "I've been having a good
time with my dolls." She smiled as she saw that he was holding out a
little bunch of violets.

"For you!" he said.

"You must really stop this sort of thing, sir, or I shall be very
angry!" But she took them and pressed them to her face.

"They look very meagre among all this great horticultural display,"
said Von Barwig regretfully.

"They came from the heart and I love them," she said as she fastened
them in her corsage.

"Well, now we begin," he said as he took out the lead pencil that he
always used as a baton. "There must be progress to-day."

He opened the piano and she sat down and looked at the music he placed
there for her. He had chosen a well-known exercise, a Czerny; not a
difficult one, but requiring some technique to play with precision.

"Come, begin!" and she rattled off at a 6-8 allegretto, the music which
was intended to be played in three-quarter andante.

"Very pretty," commented Von Barwig, "very pretty indeed, but you
finish before you commence!"

"That's the rate at which I'm thinking," said Helene. "When I think
rapidly I play rapidly. My thoughts can only be described as _presto_."

"That's rather hard on the composer, Miss Stanton. Come, I count for
you! One, two, three. One, two, three; One, two, three. The fingers
should be little hammers, so! One, two, three. Dear young lady, this
is not a thumb exerci