a little
to one side.

"My own voice is alto, Herr Schubert, and my daughter Caroline's; but my
daughter Marie has a _beautiful_ soprano." She rolled her eyes, with an
air of resigned sentiment, and shook the bobbing black curls gently from
side to side. "And he just twiddled his thumbs like this, and grunted."
She seized her sister around her plump waist and shook her vigorously.
"Don't you _see_ it?" she demanded.

The older girl laughed hysterically, with disturbed eyes.

"Don't, Cara!" she protested.

The dark eyes bubbled again.

"And his hair curls as tight--" She ran a hand along her rumpled curls,
then a look of dismay crossed the laughing face. She subsided into a
chair and folded her hands meekly. The little feet, in their stout
ankle-ties, swung back and forth beneath the chair, and the round,
German face assumed an air of wholesome stupidity.

Her sister, whose slow glance had followed hers, gave a little gasp, and
sank into a chair on the opposite side of the stove, in duplicate
meekness.

The door at the other end of the room had swung open, and a tall woman
swept in, followed by a diminutive figure in green coat and white
trousers. A pair of huge spectacles, mounted on a somewhat stumpy nose,
peered absently from side to side as he approached.

"My daughters, Herr Schubert," said the tall lady, with a circumflex
wave of her white hand that included the waxlike figures on each side
the stove.

They regarded him fixedly and primly.

His glance darted from one to the other, and he smiled broadly.

"I haf seen the young _Fraeulein_ before," he said, indicating the
younger with his fat hand.

The dark, round eyes gazed at him expressionless. His spectacles
returned the gaze and twinkled.

"She has come into the reception-room while you were explaining about
the voice of Fraeulein Marie," he said, with a glance at the other
sister.

The waxlike faces shook a little.

The lady regarded them severely.

"She is only eleven," she murmured apologetically to the little man.

"Ja! So?" he muttered. His glance flashed again at the immovable face.

"Caroline, my child, come here," said her mother.

The child slipped down from the stiff chair and crossed to her mother's
side. Her little hands were folded, and her small toes pointed primly
ahead.

"My youngest daughter, Herr Schubert," said the lady, slipping an arm
around the stiff waist. "Caroline, this is your new music tutor, Herr
Schubert.