 believe he feels a great deal of hostility towards me at times. He is never satisfied unless his pupils will, more or less, flirt with him—a kind of philandering which I object to. Besides, it wastes one's time. But he has been spoiled more than you would believe by fashionable ladies. I suppose you never read much of George Sands' writings?"

"No," answered May, opening great eyes of wonder.

"Nor I, except 'Consuelo,' and the sequel to it. I read them for the musical part, which is wonderfully good. Well, in the 'Comtesse de Rudolstadt' there is a certain Monsieur de Poelnitz, of whom it is said that en qualité d'ex-roué il n'aimait pas les filles vertueuses. It always seems to me that Valli, in his quality of philanderer, dislikes women who won't flirt, whether he wants to flirt with them himself or not."

"How odious! How despicable!"

"And yet he has his good qualities. He is very faithful and generous to his family, and sends a great part of his earnings to them in their little Sicilian village."

Then, seeing that May still looked very much shocked and astonished, Clara added, in a lighter tone, "But let us talk of something more pleasant. You were speaking of your grandmamma. If you think she would like it, I should be so glad to go and sing to her at her own home."

"Like it! Of course she would like it! And I scarcely know how to thank you as you ought to be thanked, for fear of sounding like Miss Piper!"

Clara smiled. "Miss Piper and her sister are both very kind to me," she said.

"Yes; but I wish Miss Polly wasn't so ridiculous. Of course, her music is poor and silly. It is only your beautiful singing that makes it sound well. But then you could make 'Baa, baa, blacksheep,' sound well! And then to hear the outrageous, conceited nonsense she talks——! I wonder that you can endure it so meekly. I couldn't!" answered May, with the trenchant intolerance of her eighteen years.

"Oh yes, you could, under the circumstances. I am only too glad to give the kind old lady any pleasure. And she is not so outrageously conceited—for an amateur. But now I fear I must turn you out, much as I should like you to stay; for Miss Piper sent me
