expression deepened, her eyes moist with wonder and gratitude, he tugged
at a ring on his corpulent finger, and, wrenching it free, presented it
to her with a well-turned phrase, adding:--

"Thou hast the making of a great singer in thee, Fräulein Röselein. I
wish I could help thee to fame!"

The girl gave him an incredulous stare, then reddening, the muscles on
her full neck standing out, she ran like a hare back to her companions.
Evidently he had made an impression. The honest folk about him who
witnessed the little encounter fairly brimmed over with gossip. The
stout basso moved slowly to Krayne, who braced himself for trouble. Now
for it! he whispered to himself, and grasped his walking-stick firmly.
But, hat in hand, his visitor, a handsome blond man, approached and
thanked Hugh for his generosity. He was a lover of music, the yodler
assured him, and his wife and himself felt grateful for the interest he
displayed in Fräulein Röselein, his wife's sister. Yes, she had a
remarkable voice. What a pity--but wouldn't the gentleman attend the
concert to be given that evening up at the Café Alm? It was, to be sure,
rather far, the café, but the moon would be up and if he could find his
way there he might do the company the honour of coming back with them.

The Fräulein would sing a lot for him--Bohemian, Tyrolean, French, and
German songs. Ah, she was versatile! The man did not speak like a
peasant, and seemed a shrewd, pleasant fellow. Hugh Krayne, in excellent
though formal German, assured the other of his pleasure and accepted the
invitation. Then he looked over at Röselein, who stood on the stage,
and as he did so she waved a crimson handkerchief at him as a friendly
sign. He took off his hat, touched significantly his own tie to indicate
a reciprocity of sentiment, and all aglow he ordered a third cup of