aughter once more telegraphed wondering looks at each
other, while Halfdan plunged into the impetuous movements of the minor
nocturne, which he played to the end with ever-increasing fervor and
animation.

"Mr. Birch," said Edith, as he arose from the piano with a flushed face,
and the agitation of the music still tingling through his nerves. "You
are a far greater musician than you seem to be aware of. I have not
been taking lessons for some time, but you have aroused all my musical
ambition, and if you will accept me too, as a pupil, I shall deem it a
favor."

"I hardly know if I can teach you anything," answered he, while his
eyes dwelt with keen delight on her beautiful form. "But in my present
position I can hardly afford to decline so flattering an offer."

"You mean to say that you would decline it if you were in a position to
do so," said she, smiling.

"No, only that I should question my convenience more closely."

"Ah, never mind. I take all the responsibility. I shall cheerfully
consent to being imposed upon by you."

Mrs. Van Kirk in the mean while had been examining the contents of a
fragrant Russia-leather pocket-book, and she now drew out two crisp
ten-dollar notes, and held them out toward him.

"I prefer to make sure of you by paying you in advance," said she, with
a cheerfully familiar nod, and a critical glance at his attire, the
meaning of which he did not fail to detect. "Somebody else might make
the same discovery that we have made to-day, and outbid us. And we do
not want to be cheated out of our good fortune in having been the first
to secure so valuable a prize."

"You need have no fear on that score, madam," retorted Halfdan, with a
vivid blush, and purposely misinterpreting the polite subterfuge. "You
may rely upon my promise. I shall be here again, as soon as you wish me
to return."

"Then, if you please, we shall look for you to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock."

And Mrs. Van Kirk hesitatingly folded up her notes and replaced them in
her pocket-book.

To our idealist there was something extremely odious in this sudden
offer of money. It was the first time any one had offered to pay him,
and it seemed to put him on a level with a common day-laborer. His first
impulse was to resent it as a gratuitous humiliation, but a glance
at Mrs. Van Kirk's countenance, which was all aglow with officious
benevolence, re-assured him, and his indignation died away.

That same afternoon Olson, h