au another winter, he
said. The Italian atmosphere stifled him, and the very sight of Belzini
made him "dremble vit a er-righteous er-rage." He gave Anne his address,
and begged that she would send to him when she wanted new music; "music
_vort_ someding." Monsieur Laurent, Anne's escort, was a nephew of
Tante's, a fine-looking middle-aged Frenchman, who taught the verbs with
a military air. But it was not so much his air as his dining-room which
gave him importance in the eyes of the school. The "salle a manger de
monsieur" was a small half-dark apartment, where he took his meals by
himself. It was a mysterious place; monsieur was never seen there; it
was not known even at what hour he dined. But there were stories in
whispered circulation of soups, sauces, salads, and wines served there
in secret, which made the listeners hungry even in the mere recital.
They peered into the dim little room as they passed, but never saw
anything save a brown linen table-cloth, an old caster, and one chair.
It was stated, however, that this caster was not a common caster, but
that it held, instead of the ordinary pepper and mustard, various
liquids and spices of mysterious nature, delightfully and wickedly
French.

In less than an hour the travellers reached Lancaster. Here monsieur
placed Anne in a red wagon which was in waiting, said good-by hastily
(being, perhaps, in a hurry to return to his dining-room), and caught
the down train back to the city. He had lived in America so long that he
could hurry like a native.

The old horse attached to the red wagon walked slowly over a level
winding road, switching his tail to and fro, and stopping now and then
to cough, with the profundity which only a horse's cough possesses. At
last, turning into a field, he stopped before what appeared to be a
fragment of a house.

"Is this the place?" said Anne, surprised.

"It's Miss Peter's," replied the boy driver.

The appearance of Mademoiselle Pitre in person at the door now removed
all doubt as to her abode. "I am glad to see you," she said, extending a
long yellow hand. "Enter."

The house, which had never been finished, was old; the sides and back
were of brick, and the front of wood, temporarily boarded across. The
kitchen and one room made all the depth; above, there were three small
chambers. After a while, apparently, windows and a front door had been
set in the temporary boarding, and a flight of steps added. Mademoiselle
had bought