rious Felix Dymes had offered to undertake the management of
her business, interest rose to the highest point. Felix Dymes would of
course be a tower of strength. Though tempted to speak of the support
she might expect from another great man, Alma refrained; her reason
being that she meant to ask Dora to accompany her to the Crystal Palace
next Saturday. If, as was almost certain, Redgrave met them there, it
would be unpleasant to let Dora surmise that the meeting was not by
chance.

They chattered for two or three hours, and, among other things, made
merry over a girl of their acquaintance (struggling with flagrant
poverty), who aimed at a professional career.

'It really would be kindness,' said Dora, 'to tell her she hasn't the
least chance; but one can't do that. She was here the other day playing
to us--oh, for _such_ a time! She said her bow would have to be
rehaired, and when I looked at it, I saw it was all greasy and black
near the frog, from her dirty fingers; it only wanted washing. I just
managed to edge in a hint about soap and water. But she's very touchy;
one has to be so careful with her.'

'It's dreadfully awkward, you know,' put in Gerda, 'to talk to people
who are so _poor_--isn't it? It came out one day that she had been
peeling potatoes for their dinner! It makes one so uncomfortable--she
really need not have mentioned it.'

The public halls were discussed. Which would Alma select? Then again
the programme. Would she play the Adagio?--meaning, of course, that in
Spohr's Concerto 9. No, _no_; not the Adagio--not on any account the
Adagio! Something of Bach's?--yes; perhaps the Chaconne. And Brahms?
There was the Sonata in A for violin and piano. A stiff piece, but one
must not be too popular--Heaven forbid that one should catch at cheap
applause! How about a trio? What was that thing of Dvorak's, at St
James's Hall not long ago? Yes, the trio in B flat--piano, violin, and
'cello. At least a score of pieces were jotted down, some from memory,
some picked out of old programmes, of which Dora produced a great
portfolio. Interruption came at length--a servant entering to say that
Mrs. Leach felt so ill, she wished the doctor to be summoned.

'Oh, bother Mamma and her illnesses!' exclaimed the vivacious Gerda
when the intruder was waved off. 'It's all nonsense, you know. She will
quarrel with servants and get herself into a state. It'll have to be a
boarding-house; I see it coming nearer every day.'