"The man looked ready to eat me, but Thoné (who is a sort of gypsy, Master Auchester) kept him down with her grand looks, and he turned off into a laugh,—'I suppose I may do as I please with my own child!'

"'No, sir!' I said, 'not if you are an unnatural father, for in this good land the law will protect her; and if you do not promise to treat her well, I am going to the magistrate about it. I suppose she has no mother; now, I have none myself, and I never see anybody ill-treated who has no mother without trying to get them righted.'

"'You are a fine young lady to talk to me so. Why, you are a child yourself! Who said I was unkind to my Laura? She must get her living, and she can't do better than dance, as her mother danced before her. I will send for her, and you shall hear what she will say for herself this morning.'

"He shouted out upon the landing, and presently the child came down. I was surprised to see that she looked happy, though very tired. I said, 'Are you better to-day?'

"'It was very nice,' she answered, 'and they gave me such pretty flowers!'

"Then we talked a long time. I shall tire you, Master Auchester, if I tell you all; but I found myself not knowing what to do, for though the child had been made to go through a great deal of suffering—almost all dancers must—yet she did so love the art that it was useless to try and coax her out of her services for it. All I could do, then, was to entreat her papa not to be severe with her, if even he was obliged to be strict; and then (for he had told me she danced the night before, the first time in public) I added to herself, 'You must try to deserve the flowers they give you, and dance your very best And if you practise well when you are learning in the mornings, it will become so easy that you will not find it any pain at all, and very little fatigue.'

"Her papa, I could see, was not ill-humored, but very selfish, and would make the most of his clever little daughter; so I would not stay any longer, lest he should forget what I had said. He was rather more polite again before I went away, and in a day or two I sent Thoné with a note to Laura, in which I asked her to tea—and, for a wonder, she came. I am tiring you, Master Auchester?"

"Oh! do please, for pity's sake, go on, Miss Benette!"

"Well, when she came with Thoné, she was dressed much as she dresses at the class, and I have not been able yet to persuade her to leave off that ugly necklace. She talked to me a great deal. She was not made to suffer until after her mother's death, for her mother was so tender of her that she would allow no one to touch her but herself. She taught her to dance, though; and little Laura told me so innocently how she used to practise by the side of her mother's sick bed, for she lay ill for many months. She had caught a cold—as Laura did the other night—after a great dance, in which she grew very warm; and at last she died of consumption. She had brought her husband a good deal of money, and he determined to make the most of it as soon as she was dead; for he brought Laura on very fast by teaching her all day, and torturing her too, though I really believe he thought it was necessary."

"Miss Benette!"