Tum played it again. Jeanne sat entranced.
“Encore!” she exclaimed.
Then, snatching up a thin gauzy shawl of iridescent silk, she went leaping and whirling, flying across the room.
In the meantime, Miss Mabee, who had returned, stood in a corner fascinated.
And it was truly worthy of her admiration. As a dancer, when the mood seized her Jeanne could be a spark, a flame, a gaudy, darting humming-bird, and now indeed she was a bee with invisible wings on her feet.
“That,” exclaimed the artist, “is a tiny masterpiece of music and dancing! It must be preserved. Others must know of it. We shall find a time and place. You shall see, my children.”
Jeanne flushed with pleasure. Tum was silent, but deep in both their hearts was the conviction that this was one of the truly large moments of their lives.
CHAPTER IX
JEANNE PLANS AN ADVENTURE
The dinner served in Sandy’s honor at the artist’s studio was an occasion long to be remembered. Jeanne had chanced to speak of her gypsy step-father, Bihari.
“And is he now in America?” Miss Mabee asked with sudden interest.