"Please be serious, David," she interrupted.
"I was never more serious in my life," I assured her, "but—but tell me how you are getting on with the singing."
"I really think I am doing very well," she told me. "Listen, I will sing you a little thing. Baby likes it ever so much."
She sat right down to the piano, beginning at once without the slightest hesitation. It was the lullaby from Mignon. I remember hearing Plançon sing it once; it is a beautiful thing. Frances didn't put all her force in it, the whole strength of her voice, of course, but so much tender sentiment and such sweet understanding that the melody held me in thrall and made me close my eyes. What a fool I have been ever to have thought that a woman holding such a treasure would perhaps bestow herself, some day, upon an insignificant writer!
CHAPTER XIX
FRANCES GOES TO THE COUNTRY
I am very fond of my room on the top floor of Mrs. Milliken's house, but, as regards privacy, I might nearly as well have lodgings in a corner grocery. I had finally arranged that Frances was to go to a hilly part of New Jersey, near a very pretty lake, and gather health and a coat of tan for herself and Baby Paul. I was to leave with her on the one forty-five, in order to help her on the journey and see her safely installed. The noon hour had struck and the whistles of a few thousand factories were confirming the announcement, when a vision presented itself at my door. It was very prettily clad, with a love of a hat and a most becoming gown, and smiled engagingly. She had fluffy hair and first rate teeth. Also, she immediately developed a slight lisp that did not lack attractiveness.
"Mr. Cole!" she exclaimed. "May I come in? I am from the New York Banner. I should like to have you tell me all about your novels and your impressions of modern literary activities, and something as to your views upon the war, and——"
She was already in the middle of my room, and I could do no otherwise than to advance a chair for her.