Another wall was book-lined for about eight feet of its height
and ten of its length. The centre-table had a dark blue cloth upon it
and bore magazines, books and newspapers and writing materials.

Betty's feet rested pleasurably on the thick rich carpet and her eyes
went from easy chair to easy chair.

"My father ought to have this room," she said, "he writes the most
beautiful books, and I know he'd write ever so many more if he lived
here."

"Here's the book I got myself from," said John, advancing to a
bookcase.

But Betty was oblivious of her errand. She lingered by the table,
turning over the covers of the magazines, and picture after picture
caught her eye.

One in particular she lingered over. It represented a bric-a-brac strewn
room.

"The boudoir of Madam S----," it said.

"Oh!" exclaimed Betty, and dropped her sun-bonnet into her grandfather's
chair. "Oh, John, when I've made myself, I'll have a room like _this_!"

She began to read and her eyes smiled. Then she sank down on the floor,
carrying the book with her, and leaning her back against a table-leg she
lost herself in an interview with Madam S----.

Madam replied to several searching questions blithely. She told a little
story about her large family of brothers and sisters, their extreme
poverty and her own inordinate love of music. Then there was a pathetic
touch when sickness, poverty and hunger darkened the poor little home,
and she, a mite of eight, had stood at a street corner in a foreign
city and sung a simple song. A crowd had soon collected, and a
keen-eyed, bent-shouldered man had been passing by hurriedly, and had
stopped, caught by a "something" in the little singer's voice, and face,
and attitude. He had finally pushed his way through the crowd and stood
beside the little girl in the tattered frock.

_That_ song and _that_ interview had been the beginning of a great
career. Hard work and small pay had intervened, but success had followed
success, and now not one of her concerts to-day meant less to her than
hundreds of pounds. Dukes threw flowers at her feet, Princes loaded her
with diamond brooches, tiaras, necklaces, bangles; kings and queens and
emperors "commanded her to sing before them," and gave her beautiful
mementos.

Betty was breathing quickly as she came to this stage of Madam S----'s
career. She turned a leaf, and a face smiling under a coronet looked at
her.

"Madame S----, present day," the words below said.