Soft bravos, fluttering handkerchiefs, showers of fresh flowers, greeted simple “Pretty.” They thought her some new star, and this her private début.
What was their surprise to hear it was the little Miss Redfern’s maid whom they had thus quietly been brought to see and pass judgment upon! But, gracefully, nay generously, they acknowledged her as thoroughly worth the musical education Mr. Redfern and his daughter were planning to bestow.
To simple “Pretty” herself, simple with all the honesty and unconsciousness of true genius, the great plan was not at all too strange, nor too great. If one had offered her beauty or pleasure in another shape, she might have drawn back from the gift—but not from music. It did not seem to surprise her that she was going back to the Old World, and not as a steerage passenger, but dressed in costly robes, and under the care of friends, to study with the great masters of music.
“I will come back, dear Mees Looloo, and sing to you and the kind papa lofelier than you can think, when I sall haf staid long. Some other day you sall haf to be proud of your ‘Pretty.’”
Yes, some day “Pretty” will come back to her little mistress, and to us, with the sweet old Italian violin.
DOLLY’S LAST NIGHT.
BY EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.