“My dear,” said Madame Lechertier, “it seems to me you have a very decided talent. You play dance music better than any one I ever heard, and that is saying a good deal. Why do you not turn this to account?”
“Do you think I could?” asked Sigrid, her eyes lighting up eagerly. “Do you really think I could earn my living by it?”
“I feel sure of it,” said Madame Lechertier. “And if you seriously think the idea is good I will come and discuss the matter with you. I hear you are a friend of my old pupil, Miss Boniface.”
“Yes, we are staying now at Rowan Tree House; they have been so good to us.”
“They are delightful people—the father is one of nature’s true gentlemen. I shall come and see you, then, and talk this over. To-morrow morning, if that will suit you.”
Sigrid went home in high spirits, and the next day, when as usual she and Frithiof were alone in the morning-room after breakfast, she told him of Madame Lechertier’s proposal, and while they were still discussing the matter the good lady was announced.
Now, like many people, Madame Lechertier was benevolent by impulse. Had Sigrid been less attractive, she would not have gone out of her way to help her; but the Norwegian girl had somehow touched her heart.
“It will be a case of ‘Colors seen by candlelight will not look the same by day,’” she had reflected as she walked to Rowan Tree House. “I shall find my pretty Norse girl quite commonplace and uninteresting, and my castle in the air will fall in ruins.”
But when she was shown into the room where Sigrid sat at work, all her fears vanished. “The girl has bewitched me!” she thought to herself. “And the brother, what a fine-looking fellow! There is a history behind that face if I’m not mistaken.”
“We have just been talking over what you said to me last night, Madame,” said Sigrid brightly.