“Well, you are one in a thousand,” said the man again. “But tell me, are you engaged to sing anywhere at present? Would you accept an offer if my friend here should make you one?”
Marion stared at the speaker in blank amazement. She could hardly believe that such good fortune could come to her.
“I will, indeed,” she said, very timidly; “but as I told you at first, I know nothing about singing.”
The German, whose name was Otto Vondergrift, took a card from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Call on me to-morrow morning at ten o’clock,” he said. “I have a little song that I want you to learn, and then if you will sing it at my opening concert I will give you one hundred dollars.”
Marion tried to thank him, but burst out crying.
“I will be there without fail,” she finally managed to stammer.
“You could have got her for a tenspot, Otto,” said the younger man as they walked along. “Can’t you see, she’s from the country and mighty hard up? You must be getting a little reckless with your ducats.”
“Perhaps so,” said Vondergrift, smiling, “but maybe you will find that I am wiser than you. That girl’s voice is phenomenal. She will make a fortune for me! And she’s just green enough, my boy, to think that I’m an angel.”
“You mean that she’ll appreciate your handsome offer so highly that the manager of the ‘Olio’ will not be able to buy her over! Well, if she does she’ll be the first singer to do it,” was the answer, “and after she sings for you one night she’ll have plenty of offers.”