"Oh, yes; he is a very good judge."
"Perhaps you will let me hear you play," returned Mrs. Potter, sweeping off a mingled pile of silk merino and fringe, from a very antique piano.
"Of course," replied Kate, drawing off her gloves.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, shrinking back at the discordant tones, which her first touch drew forth. "This is rather out of tune, and has not got the additional keys; I could not play anything on this instrument."
"Well, there's the grand up-stairs," said Mrs. Potter, with more respect than her manner had yet testified, at this raising of difficulties on the part of Kate. "Come along, girls."
They ascended to the decorated apartment before described; and there, although she found the "grand rose-wood," as it was termed by the family, to be deplorably out of tune also, Kate performed a noisy introduction and march, which she guessed would be most likely to suit her auditors; a song was then demanded, and given; and mother and daughters exchanged glances, which said very plainly—"We've drawn a prize!"
"Well, I'm sure that's very nice," began Mrs. Potter. "I have no objection to engage you."
Then came the discussion of terms; the greatest trial poor Kate had yet encountered. It was so difficult to name her price, so hard to bear the attempt to beat her down; yet all things must have an end; and, at length, she was finally engaged. Then, with what a feeling of relief she walked briskly on to meet Mrs. O'Toole, who was loitering about in waiting for her young mistress.
"How valuable poor Mr. Gilpin's hints have been to me," thought she; "what exquisite torture that whole interview would have been, had I not, by his advice, made up my mind to treat and think of the whole affair as a business transaction, which could not touch me really."