divine! And now, my dear child, you and I are trembling over the
edge of a most frightful quarrel, of a bitter fight, of weepings and
gnashings of teeth! You shall obey me, or I will take Baby Paul and feed
him to the hippopotamuses--no, they eat hay and carrots and things; but
I will throw him to the bears in the pit or squeeze him through the bars
of the lion's cage. Do you hear me?"

She took a step back and sank in the armchair, her hands covering her
face.

"Hello! What's the matter?" came from the open doorway.

It was Frieda, a fat and rosy _dea ex machina_, arriving to my rescue.

"Frances," I informed her, "is beginning to shed tears, because she is
going to Richetti's to have her voice made over again, renovated like my
gray suit. She wants to weep, because she will have to sing scales and
other horrid things, and be scolded when she is naughty and does not
open her mouth properly."

"Oh! I'm so glad!" chuckled Frieda, her double chin becoming more
pronounced owing to the grin upon her features. "Isn't it fine!"

"But--but it means that David wants me to be a drag on him," objected
Frances, rising quickly. "He is guaranteeing the fees, and--and I should
probably have to stop working at Madame Felicie's, and it means----"

"It means that he will have to advance a little money for your expenses
while you study," said Frieda judicially.

"Yes, of course, and after months and months of study we may find out
that my voice will never again be the same, and that all this has been
wasted, and that I shall never be able to pay it back. He has always
worked dreadfully hard and denied himself ever so many things in order
to be kind to others, and now----"

"And now he is making money hand over fist. I just went to see a friend
off on the steamer to Bermuda and every other passenger has a copy of
that blessed book in his hand. Now that Dave is being rewarded at last,
and is entitled to a bit of extravagance, to a little of the comfort
money can bring, you won't help him. You know that it will make him
perfectly miserable, if you don't accept. Oh, dear! I think I'm talking
a lot of nonsense. Do behave yourself, Frances, and let the poor fellow
have his own way, for once."

And so it was finally settled, after another tear or two and some
laughter, and Frieda joyously sat down to the piano and began to play
some horrible tango thing and Baby Paul awoke and protested, as any
sensible infant would. The next day, I