"I wonder what Alexandre meant?" mused Martine.
"Oh, it was only his way of trying to make you think that you were doing Yvonne a great favor by asking her here," responded Amy.
"Yes, the French way of pretending that things are what they are not," added Priscilla, as if the word "French" comprised the very essence of deceit.
"Take care," retorted Martine. "I never dared tell you before, but I had a French great-great-grandmother."
Although Priscilla made no reply to this, her inward comment was, "That accounts for many things that have made me wonder."
At breakfast the next morning, before Martine had come down to the table, Amy asked her mother what she really thought of Yvonne's singing.
"I do not profess to be a judge of that kind of thing, but the child seems to have a fine natural voice, as well as a musical nature. Yet, like all other singers, she must have her tones properly placed, and she is still too young to profit by expensive musical instruction. It is my own opinion that it would be better for her to sing little for the next few years. Some of the things that she sang last evening were beyond her, and there is danger of her forcing her voice, and so injuring it."
"Have you said this to Martine?"
"No, for Martine is the type of girl who profits most by finding out things for herself. She will learn gradually that everything cannot be done at once for Yvonne."