wit and water; there wasn't much wine. We didn't in the
least mind the noise that the Donizetti family made overhead; though
once when the chandelier nearly came down the professor did say they
ought to live in the cellar! I think I'll give them notice next week,"
she added thoughtfully, "though God knows I need the money."

"What about the pawn tickets?" asked Mrs. Mangenborn.

"Not a word was said about them," replied Miss Husted. "I don't know
what to think! The professor was just--oh, he was--well, we had a
great time. There's something about Bohemia that appeals to my
innermost nature. Give me a Bohemian dinner every time!" she said,
when she had spoken her final word on the subject.

"He must have money in the bank," commented Mrs. Mangenborn.

Miss Husted shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.

On the same evening the collection agent for the Blickner Piano Company
called on Professor Von Barwig, and presented him with a "final notice."

"I intended to pay you to-day," said Von Barwig. "I will pay you next
week. Won't you please wait? I have two lessons to-morrow."

"You'll pay, or we'll take the piano away; that's all! You're six
weeks behind."

"I had the money and I intended to give it to you to-day," Von Barwig
pleaded. "But--some friends came to dinner, and--" He paused, and
then smiled as it occurred to him how thoughtless he had been. The
collector left the notice in Von Barwig's possession, and walked away
without further comment.

Chapter Twelve

Affairs had not been going along very smoothly at the Museum. About this
time, there came into existence a new tempo in music that appealed
chiefly to people whose musical tastes were not yet developed, or who had
no musical taste or ear whatsoever. Now the performers at Costello's
Museum, who were called artists on the playbills, insisted that the
"Night Profess'" play their accompaniments to their acts in this new
style of musical rhythm--ragtime as it was most appropriately called.
But Von Barwig, being a musician, whose music lay in his soul and not
merely in his feet and fingers, could not do this. He worked hard to get
it, but could not, and the artists complained to the manager. As a
result Mr. Costello called upon Von Barwig at his lodgings; much to the
professor's astonishment and dismay.

"Say, who was that freak that poked her head out or the door as I came
in?" said that gentleman, as soon as he had banged