By middle of winter I give my concert
of pupils. Yesterday, I make her sing Massenet's 'Elegie.' It make me
cry very nearly. She have a soul full of music, _per Bacco! Addio, caro
signore_! I see my friend Gazzoro-Celesti. A thousand pardons!"

He shook hands effusively and ran across Broadway, where he greeted the
great _basso buffo_ of the Metropolitan, and I was left to rejoice by
myself, as I went into a shop to buy a new typewriter ribbon.

And so a time came when the lessons were stopped for some weeks.
Richetti deplored the fact that Frances could not go to Newport, where
he would have kept on teaching her, but assured her that she was getting
on marvelously and that her practice would suffice to prevent her from
losing anything she had gained back.

With the beginning of the hot weather, Frances grew somewhat anxious
about Baby Paul, who was weaned and did not keep up his steady gain in
weight. She was looking rather tired, and I insisted on calling in Dr.
Porter, who advised an immediate change of air.

"What you need is a month or two in the country," he declared. "You have
been working very hard in that shop, and practising at night, and
looking after that young ogre. If you expect to keep your health, you
must take care of it. Without it, there can be no good singing, nor any
big, vigorous Baby Paul."

"It isn't possible," asserted Frances.

"It is, and shall be done," I contradicted severely. "When I took my
gray suit over to Madame Felicie to clean and press, she complained that
there was very little business now. I know that she can spare you for a
time. She will have to do so anyway, when you begin to sing in public. I
know just the place for you to go to."

"Good!" exclaimed Dr. Porter, "and you, Mr. Cole, had better do the same
thing. You ought to take a holiday. Get some of the cobwebs off your
mind and gather in a little country atmosphere to put into your next
book."

"All I need," I said, "is some pills. I shall get you to prescribe them
for me."

"I won't," he retorted rudely. "You must go to bed at a reasonable hour,
consume regular meals, and breathe clean air and take plenty of
exercise. So long, get a move on you and take my advice at once,
undiluted."

"It would be ever so nice, if you could go, David," said Frances, as
soon as our good little doctor had left. "I am sure you are tired also.
As for me, I know it is not so bad as he thinks. I can take Baby up on
the Palisades, and