visitor.

"And now--er--about this concert!"

"Herman is going to sing, and Marie Ross, and--" Miss Caldecott reeled
off the names of half-a-dozen well-known artistes, checking them on her
fingers with an air of triumph. "They are all _giving_ their services.
My dear, it would be the finest advertisement you could have. Make up
something original and striking in the way of a programme, and they will
all be eating out their hearts with jealousy. You don't know what we
are in the profession, but I do. And you may take it from me that every
one of them will determine on the spot that she will have something even
better when it comes to her turn. You will have your name printed in
the corner. I will crack you up as the coming artist, and they will all
be running after you, and giving you more commissions than you can
take--"

"On the same terms?" queried Madge blandly. "Because if so, I hardly
see where the artist comes in. There must be reciprocity in these
things, Miss Caldecott. I cannot work for nothing. Now, for instance,
if you were going to sing Hope's song--"

Miss Caldecott looked shocked at the suggestion.

"My dear girl, it's impossible. I'm booming three songs for publishers
just now, and get half-a-guinea apiece every time I sing them. That is
what Hope should do: get some firm to push her things, and pay for
having them sung. She will never make a name until she does."

"Just so; but as she is young and unknown, they don't feel inclined to
help her. It would help matters considerably if you would give `The
Song of Sleep' at your concert. You might possibly lose
ten-and-sixpence, but, on the other hand, my charge for an illustrated
programme is five guineas! You would have the best of the bargain."

In the silence which followed the Hermit's chuckle of delight was
distinctly audible. Minnie looked at him sharply, nodded her head as if
in sympathy with his enjoyment, and cried laughingly:

"_She'll_ get on! No fear for her! Knows how to look after herself,
and her sister too. Very well, then, it shall be an encore; but you
must do your best for me, mind--something very fetching. If you could
give a hint of a wedding it would be a good idea. I don't want the
audience to think I am retiring through old age. Thirty, indeed!" and
she threw an indignant glance at the Hermit, the while Madge laughed,
and suggested:

"Wedding-bells, and a wreath of orange-blossoms as a bordering?"

"