big arm-chair and a
piano, over which hung a large oil painting of some bygone ballet at the
Theatre de l'Opera in Paris, and also an engraving of Taglioni signed
affectionately by that great Prima Ballerina Assoluta.

Madame Aldavini rang a bell, and presently Miss Carron, her pianist and
assistant teacher, came in. Miss Carron was a Frenchwoman, who had lived
so long in London that she spoke English better than French, except in
moments of great anger, when her native tongue returned to her with an
added force of expression from such long periods of quiescence.

"What tune do you like, miss?" inquired Madame. "What is her name?
Jenny? _Si_, I have no Jenny at present."

But the would-be dancer had no tune by name.

"Play the what's it called from what's its name," suggested Mr. Vergoe,
to help matters along.

"_Hein?_" said Miss Carron sharply.

"The--you know--the--the--well, anyway, it goes like this," and he
hummed the opening bars of the Intermezzo from "Cavalleria."

"Ah!" said Miss Carron. "But that's no tune to dance to. You want
something to show off the twiddly-bits."

"Play the Intermezzo," commanded Madame Aldavini.

Miss Carron began, but Jenny could only wriggle in a shamefaced way, and
was too shy to start.

"You great stupid," said her mother.

"One, two, three, off," said Mr. Vergoe.

"You are frightened, yes? Timid? Come, I shall not eat you," declared
Madame.

At last the novice produced a few steps.

"Enough," said Madame. "I take her. She will come once a week for the
first year, twice a week for the second year, three times a week the
third year and every day--how old is she?"

"Ten."

"Every day when she is thirteen."

The further details of Jenny's apprenticeship were settled in the
little paneled room, while Jenny listened to wonderful instructions
about stockings and shoes and skirts. When it was all over the three
visitors walked out of the gray house, where Jenny was to spend so many
hours of childhood, into Great Queen Street and an April shower
sprinkling the pavement with large preliminary drops. Mr. Vergoe
insisted on standing tea at a shop in Holborn for the luck of the
adventure. Jenny's first chocolate _eclair_ probably made a more abiding
impression on her mind than the first meeting with Madame Aldavini.

So Jenny became a dancer and went, under her mother's escort, to Great
Queen Street once a week for a year.

The pupils of Madame Aldavini all wore pink ta