othing better to
do, had I?"

Charlie shook his head in sarcastic astonishment.

"Yes," went on Mrs. Raeburn. "You can wag your great, silly head, but
I'm not going to have my Jenny marrying _any_body. She's going to be
able to say, 'No, thank you,' to a sight of young chaps. And if I can't
look after her sharp when she's at the theater, I can't look after her
anywhere else, that's very certain."

"Well, I call it rank nonsense--rank nonsense, that's what I call it,
and don't you turn round on me and say I put it into her head. What
theater's she going to?"

"You silly man, she's got to learn first."

"Learn what?"

"Learn dancing--at a school."

"Learn dancing? If she's got to learn dancing, what's the sense in her
going for an actress?"

"You had to learn carpentering, didn't you?"

"Of course, but that's very different to dancing. Anybody can
dance--some better than others; but _learn_ dancing--well, there, the
ideas some women gets in their heads, it's against all nature."

"Have you finished? Because I got my washing to see to. You go and talk
it over at the 'Arms.' I reckon they've got more patience than me."

Jenny was in bed when her mother told her she should become a pupil of
Madame Aldavini.

"Aren't you glad?" she asked, as her daughter made no observation.

"Yes; it's all right," said Jenny, coldly it seemed.

"You are a comical child."

"Shall I go to-morrow?"

"We'll see."

Mrs. Raeburn thought to herself, as she left the room, how strange
children were; and, having settled Jenny's future, she began to worry
about May, who was just then showing symptoms of a weak spine, and lay
awake thinking of her children half the night.

Chapter VIII: _Ambition Looks in the Glass_

On Mr. Vergoe's recommendation, Madame Aldavini granted an interview to
Mrs. Raeburn and her daughter, and the old clown was to accompany them
on the difficult occasion.

It was a warm April day when they set out, with a sky like the matrix of
turquoise. The jagged purple clouds were so high that all felt the
outside of an omnibus was the only place on such a day. Mrs. Raeburn and
Jenny sat in front, and Mr. Vergoe sat immediately behind them, pointing
out every object of interest on the route. At least, he pointed out
everything until they reached Sadlers Wells Theater, after which
reminiscences of Sadlers Wells occupied the rest of the journey. They
swung along Rosebery Avenue and into Theobald's Road an