“Did you have an appointment or have you ever come to me before?” temporized the woman.
“No,” said Peggy, “but we thought—we thought you might be willing to see us anyway.”
“Yes, yes, indeed, come in,” said the woman vaguely. “Come in and we will have a little music.”
The girls were seated, full of bewilderment, in a sunny, rather vacant room, while the seeress swished across the floor like an animated mountain and, going over to a piano on which the dust shone, sat down and began to play a simple exercise like those Peggy had practiced when she was a child and had her fingers rapped if she made a mistake.
In increasing wonderment the two watched the self-confident figure picking out its little exercise and apparently completely oblivious of their presence and as thrilled by the feeble tinkle, tinkle it was accomplishing, as if the sound were a whole orchestra of beautiful music.
After a time she stopped, and turned to the girls with a small smile. “I like music,” she said. “Oh, so fond of music. I’m taking lessons.”
“She needs ’em,” whispered Katherine.
“Did you enjoy my little roundelay?” she inquired anxiously.
“It was—it was very nice,” Peggy tried to say politely. “But we thought you were Madame La Mar, the fortune teller.”
“I am Madame La Mar,” responded the woman, as pleased as peaches. “Yes, indeed, who else could be her, you know?”