"A very good, helpful child it is," said Madame von Marwitz. "You are methodical, Karen. You will make a good housewife. That has never been my talent."
"And it is my only one," said Karen.
"Ah, well, no; it is a good, solid little head in other directions, too. And it is no mean musician that the child has become. Yes; there are many well-known artists to whom I would listen less willingly than to my Karen. It is only in the direction of la toilette," Madame von Marwitz smiled with a touch of roguishness, "only in the direction of la toilette that the taste is rather rudimentary as yet. I was very cross last night, hein?"
"It was disappointing not to have pleased you," said Karen, smiling.
"And I was cross. Louise has her souffre-douleur expression this morning to an exasperating degree."
"We thought we were going to make the dress quite right," said Karen. "It seemed very simple to arrange the lace around the shoulders; I stood and Louise draped me; and Louise is clever, you know."
"Not clever enough for that. It was all because with your solicitude about Louise you wanted her to escape a scolding. She took the lace to Mrs. Rolley too late and did not explain as I told her to do. And you did not save her, you see. Put those two letters of Mr. Drew's in the portfolio; so. And now come and sit, there. I want to have a serious talk with you, Karen."
Karen obeyed. Madame von Marwitz sat in her deep chair, the window behind her. The fog had lifted and the pale morning sunlight struck softly on the coils of her hair and fell on the face of the young girl sitting before her. With her grey dress and folded hands and serene gaze Karen looked very like the little convent pensionnaire. Madame von Marwitz scrutinized her thoughtfully for some moments.
"You are—how old is it, Karen?" she said at last.
"I shall be twenty-four in March," said Karen.