Madame went downstairs to get tea ready. Wherever she was, she superintended the cooking and the preparation of meals for her young men, scrupulous and quick. She called Alvina downstairs. Ciccio came in with the bag.
“See, my dear, that your money is safe,” said Madame.
Alvina unfastened her bag and counted the crisp white notes.
“And now,” said Madame, “I shall lock it in my little bank, yes, where it will be safe. And I shall give you a receipt, which the young men will witness.”
The party sat down to tea, in the stuffy sitting-room.
“Now, boys,” said Madame, “what do you say? Shall Miss Houghton join the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras? Shall she be our pianist?”
The eyes of the four young men rested on Alvina. Max, as being the responsible party, looked business-like. Louis was tender, Geoffrey round-eyed and inquisitive, Ciccio furtive.
“With great pleasure,” said Max. “But can the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras afford to pay a pianist for themselves?”
“No,” said Madame. “No. I think not. Miss Houghton will come for one month, to prove, and in that time she shall pay for herself. Yes? So she fancies it.”
“Can we pay her expenses?” said Max.