Laura listened enraptured, swept beyond remembrance of Laura Scollard, her vanities, her little disappointments and desires.
She drew a long breath as the mysterious man ceased playing at last, and turned on the stool to face her. "Oh!" she said with a long-drawn sigh, forgetting to thank him.
"Good-bye," said this singular person abruptly, and hastened towards the door.
Happie intercepted him. "You have been very kind to us," she said. "We would like to thank you, but it seems rather silly to thank any one for such music as that. I wish we might know what to call you."
The man looked down on her, stroking his drooping moustache with the end of his thumb and the side of his forefinger, holding his hollowed hand over his mouth.
"You can call me Lieder, Hans Lieder," he said, and was gone.
"Lieder! Songs!" murmured Happie gazing after him. "I'm perfectly sure that isn't his name."
While this feast of music had been spread for the three lucky girls down-stairs, Polly and Penny were rapturously being introduced to another art up-stairs, and Margery was enjoying watching the children with all her might.
Little Serena Jones-Dexter had arrived under the care of her nurse, and when she came out of the dressing-room with every ribbon falling into its proper fold of finest mull, Mrs. Stewart took her hand and led her over to Margery.