"What, my 'pussy-cat,' could you play dancing-music, like those artists
who go to the large parties of fashionable people?"

"Certainly!"

"Well, that is a talent worth something! Why did you not tell me before?
I will think of it, and you shall see."

On the next Saturday, early in the morning, she appeared in Henrietta's
room with the bright face of a bearer of good news.

"I have thought of you," she said as soon as she entered.

"Ah!"

"We have a tenant in the house who is going to give a large party
to-night. I have mentioned you to her; and she says she will give you
thirty francs if you will make her guests jump. Thirty francs! That's a
big sum; and besides, if they are pleased, you will get more customers."

"In what part of the house does she live?"

"In the second story of the back building, looking upon the yard. Mrs.
Hilaire, a very nice person, and so good! there is no one like her. You
would have to be there at nine o'clock precisely."

"I'll come."

Quite happy, and full of hope, Henrietta spent a part of the afternoon
in mending her only dress, a black silk dress, much worn unfortunately,
and already often repaired. Still, by much skill and patience, she
had managed to look quite respectable when she rang the bell at Mrs.
Hilaire's door. She was shown into a room furnished with odd furniture,
but brilliantly lighted, in which seven or eight ladies in flaming
costumes, and as many fashionable gentlemen, were smoking and taking
coffee. Both ladies and gentlemen had just risen from table; there was
no mistaking it from their eyes and the sound of their voices.

"Look! there is the musician from the garret!" exclaimed a large,
dark-skinned woman, pretty, but very vulgar, who seemed to be Mrs.
Hilaire.

And, turning to Henrietta, she asked,--

"Will you take a little glass of something, my darling?"

The poor girl blushed crimson, and, painfully embarrassed, declined, and
asked pardon for declining; when the lady broke in rather rudely, and
said,--

"You are not thirsty? Very well. You'll drink after some time. In the
meantime will you play us a quadrille? and mark the time, please."

Then imitating with distressing accuracy the barking voice of masters of
ceremonies at public balls, she called out,--

"Take your positions, take your positions: a quadrille!"

Henrietta had taken her seat at the piano. She turned her back to the
dancers; but she had before her a mirror, in which she saw e