"In New York?" asked Ella, rather dully.

"Yes." She ripped open another letter. It was from
Theodore. He was coming to New York in August. The Russian
tour had been a brilliant success. They had arranged a
series of concerts for him in the United States. He could
give his concerto there. It was impossible in Russia,
Munich, even Berlin, because it was distinctly Jewish in
theme--as Jewish as the Kol Nidre, and as somber. They
would have none of it in Europe. Prejudice was too strong.
But in America! He was happier than he had been in years.
Olga objected to coming to America, but she would get over
that. The little one was well, and she was learning to
talk. Actually! They were teaching her to say Tante Fanny.

"Well!" exclaimed Fanny, her eyes shining. She read bits of
the letter aloud to Ella. Ella was such a satisfactory
sort of person to whom to read a letter aloud. She
exclaimed in all the right places. Her face was as radiant
as Fanny's. They both had forgotten all about Fenger, their
Chief. But they had been in their hotel scarcely a half
hour, and Ella had not done exclaiming over the bag that
Fanny had brought her from Paris, when his telephone call
came.

He wasted very little time on preliminaries.

"I'll call for you at four. We'll drive through the park,
and out by the river, and have tea somewhere."