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She could for instance, read a French story-book without skipping very many words; but she had never heard a syllable of the language spoken, and her first attempts at pronunciation caused even Miss Zielinski to sit back in her chair and laugh till the tears ran down her face.
Only good old Chapman, she thought, looked a little sorry, and Miss Zielinski yes, Miss Zielinski was crying! This discovery thrilled Laura just as, at the play, the fact of one spectator being moved to tears intensifies his neighbour's enjoyment. But when Mr.
"She can say some poetry," said Miss Zielinski. "And she's read Scott." One and all shook their heads at this, and Mrs. Gurley went on shaking hers and smiling grimly. "Ah! the way gels are brought up nowadays," she said. "There was no such thing in my time. We were made to learn what would be of some use and help to us afterwards." Elderly Miss Chapman twiddled her chain. "I hope I did right Mrs.
As some difficulty was experienced in discovering the identity of Countess Delphine Potocka, I applied in 1899 to Mr. Jaraslow de Zielinski, a pianist of Buffalo, New York, for assistance; he is an authority on Polish and Russian music and musicians. Here are the facts he kindly transmitted: "In 1830 three beautiful Polish women came to Nice to pass the winter.
"DO let me alone," said Miss Zielinski pettishly, holding fast to the book; but she did not raise her eyes, for they were wet. "You know you'll count the washing all wrong again to-morrow, your head'll be so full of that stuff." "Yes, it's time to go, girls; to-morrow's Saturday."
She even eyed Laura somewhat uneasily, meanwhile toying with a long gold chain, after the manner of the Lady Superintendent. "Didn't Mrs. Gurley tell you what to do?" she queried. "I should think it likely she would. Oh well, if she didn't, I suppose you'd better bring your things downstairs. Yes ... and ask Miss Zielinski to give you a shelf."
She yawned again, and gazing round the room for fresh food for talk, caught Miss Zielinski with her eye. "Hullo, Ziely, what are you deep in?" She put her arm round the other's neck, and unceremoniously laid hold of her book. "You naughty girl, you're at Ouida again! Always got your nose stuck in some trashy novel."
But it is all quite in the role; scratch an artist and you surprise a child. Of course, Constantia sang wonderfully. "Her low B came out so magnificently that Zielinski declared it alone was worth a thousand ducats." Ah, these enamored ones! Chopin left Warsaw November 1, 1830, for Vienna and without declaring his love. Or was he a rejected suitor? History is dumb.
"The greatest little oddity we've had here for some time," pronounced Miss Day, pouting her full bust in decisive fashion. "She is, indeed," agreed Miss Zielinski. "I don't know what sort of a place she comes from, I'm sure," continued the former: "but it must be the end of creation. She's utterly no idea of what's what, and as for her clothes they're fit for a Punch and Judy show."
It was an extempore prayer, and a long one, and Laura did not hear much of it; for the two big girls on her right kept up throughout a running conversation. Also, when it was about half over she was startled to hear Miss Zielinski say, in a shrill whisper: "Heavens! There's that mouse again," and audibly draw her skirts round her.
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