“Who was that gentleman who came and spoke to you at the close of the exercises?” he asked, just before they reached home.
Star glanced up with a start.
“His name is Appleton,” she answered, and pretended not to notice that his eyes were resting curiously upon the package which he had given her.
When they entered the house, Star ascended to her own room, while Mr. Richards sought his wife.
He found her and Josephine together in the drawing-room, and, for a wonder, no callers with them.
He informed them where he had been, and also of the brilliant appearance which Star had made before the public.
Both mother and daughter sneered audibly at his account, and this aroused his indignation.
His eyes began to blaze, and his wife sobered instantly; she always recognized and dreaded this dangerous symptom.
“You are a couple of selfish, heartless women,” he began; “and now, let me tell you, you have got to turn over a new leaf, or there will be trouble in the camp. That girl, whom you have so despised and tried to degrade ever since she came into the house, has wonderful talent—talent of which any one might be proud. She is rightly named, for she certainly shone like a star of the first magnitude to-day. Her essay was superior to anything produced there, and her performance upon the piano something wonderful for one so young and possessing so few advantages.”
“Oh, papa, you don’t mean to say that she can play the piano! I’m sure she has never touched this one since she came here, and no one can play well without constant practice,” asserted Miss Josephine, with a toss of her dark head, for she was accounted a good musician.