"Phil, it's a very crazy business! I wouldn't go into it, only I am so selfish, and the plan is so magnificent for me."
"That is enough to recommend it. Now I want you to let me know, from time to time, what I can send you that will either tend to your comfort, or help the work we have in view. Will you?"
"But where are you going to be? I thought you were going to Europe?"
"Not till spring. I shall be in New York this winter."
"But you will not come to—what is the name of the place—where I am going?" she asked earnestly.
"No," said he, smiling. "Shall I send you a piano?"
"A piano! Is music intended to be in the programme? What should I do with a piano?"
"That you would find out. But you are so fond of music—it would be a comfort, and I have no doubt it would be a help."
Mrs. Barclay looked at him with a steady gravity, under which lurked a little sparkle of amusement.
"Do you mean that I am to teach your Dulcinea to play? Or to sing?"