The artist glanced at the little sheet with polite but indifferent interest. Jane felt, for a moment, she had made a mistake in offering so humble a testimonial. Then suddenly the prima donna sat erect. Her eyes showed intense interest. Her long, wonderfully tapering fingers seemed to clutch the much-abused little Bugle with an intensity at once strange and foreign to the occasion.
"Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed. "Tell me what is this? Who is this little artist?" and she glared at Jane as if trying to obtain in that fixed gaze some explanation of the lines she had just read.
"Why!" faltered Jane. "She is a little freshman--who is at Wellington. She is a very great friend of mine."
"But tell me about her!" begged the woman, actually seizing Jane's hands. "What does she look like? What is her real name? Do you know? Please tell me quickly."
Jane now saw the prima donna was laboring under some great strain and excitement. So apparent was her agitation the secretary, who had remained at a respectful distance during the interview, hastened to the side of her mistress.
"Oh, pray, what is it, Madam?" she asked in alarm. "Why such excitement?"
"But, Marie, you cannot know!" gasped the artist. "This is more to me than life itself. Oh, what if it should be----" she hesitated. "Little lady!" she again directly addressed Jane. "Can you tell me just what the Polish girl looks like? Has she pretty eyes and pretty hair? And is she a sweet child? Oh, how shall I ever wait to know!"
The intensity of the excitement was proving too much for Madam Nalasky, and Jane ardently wished she had kept the hapless Bugle to herself. But it was too late now. Besides this, in offering the flattering tribute of Helen's ability to the singer, Jane had a sense of making the artist acquainted with Helen, hoping the light knowledge might some day be of value in her musical career. But now, Madam was almost overcome. Her attendants were quieting her with smelling draughts from a tiny bottle. Jane glanced at the outer door hopefully. If only Mrs. Weatherbee would appear! What if this lady was erratic, and her suddenly taken a spell? Jane remembered geniuses are apt to be very temperamental.
"I am so sorry," she said quietly to a maid. "I hope I have not upset Madam?"
"Oh, no, my dear. It is not the upset, but the joy, the hope. How shall I know! Can you not tell me what your friend looks like?" This from Madam.