"There is a lady here who cannot wait another moment to see you, may I----"
But the tide could no longer be stemmed and in rushed Mme. Nalasky.
"My baby! My own darling!" exclaimed the singer, brushing into the room and embracing the astonished Helen.
Jane drew back, and stood near Stanislaus, who was viewing the scene with quite as much astonishment as it were possible for a young man to experience. At the moment Jane could not refrain from indulging her old-time delight of clapping her hands. As if that were a signal, Judith and her followers actually entered the room in battle formation. Mrs. Weatherbee was about to expostulate, when Madam Nalasky turned smiling to the group.
"Ah, this is all too beautiful! Like a grand opera climax. I would not have the young ladies leave, if you please, madam," to Mrs. Weatherbee. "May they not all hear our wonderful story? I think of a certainty, the companions of Miss Allen must indeed be worthy of so much pleasure."
Judith almost chuckled. Jane dragged her in nearer and squeezed her hand. Drusilla, Dicky, Weasie, Gloria, besides all the others waiting impatiently in the big hall could hear their invitation to take part in the climax of the grand opera. Helen was dumbfounded. She stood staring at the woman beside her, as if she could not trust her senses. Then Marie, the faithful protector of talent, stepped up and deliberately led her mistress to a chair. Madam did sit down. She knew Marie's power, but from the small throne she might still direct that girls' opera.
She motioned Helen to come nearer, and then begun in true stage fashion to unfold the tale.
"This little girl," she said, "is my own sweet daughter. When I left her in Petrograd at a conservatory she was in the care of the very wonderful man, my uncle. I had been--somewhat with the nobility, was obliged to leave the beautiful Poland, and too soon my kind old uncle--he who had taken Helka to watch over, was gone also!"
Stanislaus stood there like a guard, Jane thought, and as Madam described the scene it was truly one of dramatic value.
"When my uncle was gone, my baby was lost to me entirely. I had no way of finding her as these Russian artists who wanted her for her talent had put her in another conservatory. She showed talent so early in her baby life when her dear father would play his beloved violin," she paused at this memory, then proceeded. "I searched the whole country and at last found she had come to America."