'You understand? Of course! Thank you! Then I will speak in my own

language. I will go out to Miss Donne, if you permit. Luncheon? Ah, if

I could! But I have just eaten. I am sure you have so many good things!

Little Miss Donne--ah! here she is!' At this point Margaret came in, pulling off the old garden hat she had

worn when Lushington had come to see her. She was surprised that the

prima donna did not throw her arms round her and kiss her, but the

artist had judged Mrs. Rushmore in a flash and behaved with almost

English gravity as she took Margaret's hand.

'I have come to Paris expressly to see you,' she said.

'Let me introduce you to Mrs. Rushmore,' said Margaret.

'It is done,' said Madame Bonanni, making a little stage courtesy at

the elder woman. 'I broke into the house like a burglar, and found a

charming hostess waiting to arrest me with the kindest invitation to

luncheon!' 'What a delightful way of putting it!' cried Mrs. Rushmore, much

pleased.

Margaret felt that Madame Bonanni was showing a side of her nature

which she had not yet seen. It had never occurred to the girl that the

singer could make pretty society speeches. But Madame Bonanni had seen

many things in her time.

Margaret carried her off to her own room, after a few words more, for

it was clear that her visitor had something private to say, and had

come all the way from London to say it, apparently out of pure

friendship. Her manner changed again when they were alone. By force of

habit the big woman sat down on the piano-stool and turned over the

music that was open on the instrument, and she seemed to pay no heed to

what Margaret said. Margaret was thanking her for her visit, arranging

the blinds, asking her if there was enough air, for the day was hot,

inquiring about the weather in London, moving about the room with each

little speech, and with the evident desire to start the conversation so

as to find out why Madame Bonanni had come. But the singer turned over

the pages obstinately, looked up rather coldly at Margaret now and

then, and once or twice whistled a few bars of Rigoletto in a way

that would have been decidedly rude, had it not been perfectly clear

that she did not know what she was doing, and was really trying to make

up her mind how to begin. Margaret understood, and presently let her

alone, and just sat down on a chair at the corner of the piano with a

bit of work, and waited to see what would happen.




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