CHAPTER XII
THE CONSOLE
John Ogden continued to reassure his protégé, telling him that he would be right behind him if there was anything he could do at any time for Carol, and Hugh was fast clearing the dainty tray when, replying to a knock at his door, Miss Frink walked in.
Hugh noticed at once that she was wearing that triumphant expression which portended some contribution to his well-being; and, indeed, she was at once followed by the bearer of a handsome piece of furniture which proved to be the latest artistic shape, and most expensive wood, that can encase a musical machine.
“Music is good for him, Mr. Ogden,” she explained when the polished beauty was set against the wall and the man had left. “Hugh is very fond of music, and I wanted him to be able to have it whenever he wished, and choose his own pieces.”
“Oh, Miss Frink!” exclaimed Hugh, not joyfully, rather with an accent of despair.
“Yes, I know,” she responded, opening the door of the record depository. “He doesn’t want me to get him anything; but for my own sake I ought to have one of these in the house.”
“That is a corker, Miss Frink,” said Ogden, coming forward to make an admiring examination of the Console.
“You pick out something for him,” said Miss Frink. “Where’s Miss Damon?”
“I’m here.” The nurse appeared from the dressing-room and removed Hugh’s tray while Ogden put an opera selection on the machine and started it to playing.