"He thinks enough of himself, doesn't he?" said Martine.
"Oh, he's not really conceited," replied Amy, "and I dare say that he would liven us up a little; but on the whole things are best as they are."
"Aren't you quieter than usual, Martine?" asked Amy that evening.
"Well, I had a letter from papa to-day," she said, "and he says that mamma is really very ill, and that they may have to stay abroad all summer. I have just written him about Yvonne; but of course it will be some time before I can get an answer."
"What do you want him to do?" asked Amy,—"to let you adopt her? She's almost as tall as you are."
"Well, I'm not sure what I want, but I know that if Yvonne should have her voice cultivated she'd be a great prima donna, and what a feather in my cap to have been her discoverer!"
"I fear that your father would need more than your opinion to enable him to decide a matter like that. In fact, only an expert musician could make a safe prophecy about Yvonne."
"Well, at least, I hope that he will consent to letting her go to Boston to study next winter. We could find a doctor to help her eyesight."
"Why not ask your father to invest in Alexander's gold mine?" asked Amy, with a smile; "then he could do everything for Yvonne himself."
"That isn't the point. I've really taken a great fancy to Yvonne, and I want to have her near me. Have you written to Pierre yet?"