been feeling pretty strung up myself, Margaret, I could have
laughed at the amazement and despair depicted on her face when she found
that the announcement that I had such a marvellous voice was received so
calmly.

"'Worth training. I consent!' The sheer despair of getting Mrs. Murray to
understand seized her, and she could only sit and gasp.

"I think Mrs. Murray grasped then that Madame was disappointed that what
she said had not produced more sensation, for she said kindly:--

"'I am not really at all surprised that you are pleased with her voice,
for her grandfather said she had a nice little voice, very true and
sweet, and he wished her to have regular lessons. It is very kind of you
to take so much interest in it.'"

"'It is a preevilege,' Madame Martelli said. 'It will give me a new
interest in life.' And then she turned to me and wrung my hand again and
again, and though she hurt my three cuts dreadfully, I never even winced.

"'What queer, excitable people foreigners are!' Mrs. Murray said to me
placidly as we drove away; 'but I am glad, my dear Margaret, that you
have a voice worth training. It is a great thing to be able to amuse
oneself with music and give pleasure to one's friends at the same time.'"

Eleanor had recounted this scene with so much vivacity, accompanying her
recital with various gesticulations, and imitating with what Margaret
felt sure was considerable accuracy the different voices of Madame
Martelli and Mrs. Murray, that in spite of her own pre-occupation she had
listened to it with great interest. But when it was over, and Eleanor,
still talking at a tremendous pace as if she wanted to get all she had to
say told in the shortest possible space of time, had gone on to tell her
various other items connected with her two days' stay in Rose Cottage,
Margaret relapsed into the rather moody frame of mind that the first
glimpse she had caught of Eleanor's radiantly happy face had brought upon
her.

"Every morning after breakfast, and every afternoon after tea, I am to go
down to Madame Martelli's house. She lives in a tiny cottage perched on
the opposite side of the valley just above the church, and all my
practising is done at her house. She has forbidden me to sing a note by
myself at present. I read Italian and French with her too, but, as you
can guess, most of the time I spend in practising. Then for the rest of
the day my time is my own. Of course I am a good deal by myself, but I
l