Fanny Herself. Edna Ferber

of the flawlessness of her purchase, had done everything but climb inside it. It had early been instilled in the minds of Mrs. Brandeis's children that she was never to be approached when busy with a customer. There were times when they rushed into the store bursting with news or plans, but they had learned to control their eagerness. This, though, was no ordinary news that had blanched Theodore's face. At sight of the three, Mrs. Brandeis quietly turned her boiler purchaser over to Pearl and came forward from the rear of the store.

      “Oh, Mother!” cried Theodore, an hysterical note in his voice. “Oh, Mother!”

      And in that moment Molly Brandeis knew. Emil Bauer introduced them, floridly. Molly Brandeis held out her hand, and her keen brown eyes looked straight and long into the gifted Russian's pale blue ones. According to all rules he should have started a dramatic speech, beginning with “Madame!” hand on heart. But Schabelitz the great had sprung from Schabelitz the peasant boy, and in the process he had managed, somehow, to retain the simplicity which was his charm. Still, there was something queer and foreign in the way he bent over Mrs. Brandeis's hand. We do not bow like that in Winnebago.

      “Mrs. Brandeis, I am honored to meet you.”

      “And I to meet you,” replied the shopkeeper in the black sateen apron.

      “I have just had the pleasure of hearing your son play,” began Schabelitz.

      “Mr. Bauer called me out of my economics class at school, Mother, and said that —— ”

      “Theodore!” Theodore subsided. “He is only a boy,” went on Schabelitz, and put one hand on Theodore's shoulder. “A very gifted boy. I hear hundreds. Oh, how I suffer, sometimes, to listen to their devilish scraping! To-day, my friend Bauer met me with that old plea, `You must hear this pupil play. He has genius.' `Bah! Genius!' I said, and I swore at him a little, for he is my friend, Bauer. But I went with him to his studio — Bauer, that is a remarkably fine place you have there, above that drug store; a room of exceptional proportions. And those rugs, let me tell you —— ”

      “Never mind the rugs, Schabelitz. Mrs. Brandeis here —— ”

      “Oh, yes, yes! Well, dear lady, this boy of yours will be a great violinist if he is willing to work, and work, and work. He has what you in America call the spark. To make it a flame he must work, always work. You must send him to Dresden, under Auer.”

      “Dresden!” echoed Molly Brandeis faintly, and put one hand on the table that held the fancy cups and saucers, and they jingled a little.

      “A year, perhaps, first, in New York with Wolfsohn.”

      Wolfsohn! New York! Dresden! It was too much even for Molly Brandeis' well-balanced brain. She was conscious of feeling a little dizzy. At that moment Pearl approached apologetically. “Pardon me, Mis' Brandeis, but Mrs. Trost wants to know if you'll send the boiler special this afternoon. She wants it for the washing early to-morrow morning.”

      That served to steady her.

      “Tell Mrs. Trost I'll send it before six to-night.” Her eyes rested on Theodore's face, flushed now, and glowing. Then she turned and faced Schabelitz squarely. “Perhaps you do not know that this store is our support. I earn a living here for myself and my two children. You see what it is — just a novelty and notion store in a country town. I speak of this because it is the important thing. I have known for a long time that Theodore's playing was not the playing of the average boy, musically gifted. So what you tell me does not altogether surprise me. But when you say Dresden — well, from Brandeis' Bazaar in Winnebago, Wisconsin, to Auer, in Dresden, Germany, is a long journey for one afternoon.”

      “But of course you must have time to think it over. It must be brought about, somehow.”

      “Somehow —— ” Mrs. Brandeis stared straight ahead, and you could almost hear that indomitable will of hers working, crashing over obstacles, plowing through difficulties. Theodore watched her, breathless, as though expecting an immediate solution. His mother's eyes met his own intent ones, and at that her mobile mouth quirked in a sudden smile. “You look as if you expected pearls to pop out of my mouth, son. And, by the way, if you're going to a concert this evening don't you think it would be a good idea to squander an hour on study this afternoon? You may be a musical prodigy, but geometry's geometry.”

      “Oh, Mother! Please!”

      “I want to talk to Mr. Schabelitz and Mr. Bauer, alone.” She patted his shoulder, and the last pat ended in a gentle push. “Run along.”

      “I'll work, Mother. You know perfectly well I'll work.” But he looked so startlingly like his father as he said it that Mrs. Brandeis felt a clutching at her heart.

      Theodore out of the way, they seemed to find very little to discuss, after all. Schabelitz was so quietly certain, Bauer so triumphantly proud.

      Said Schabelitz, “Wolfsohn, of course, receives ten dollars a lesson ordinarily.”

      “Ten dollars!”

      “But a pupil like Theodore is in the nature of an investment,” Bauer hastened to explain. “An advertisement. After hearing him play, and after what Schabelitz here will have to say for him, Wolfsohn will certainly give Theodore lessons for nothing, or next to nothing. You remember” — proudly — “I offered to teach him without charge, but you would not have it.”

      Schabelitz smote his friend sharply on the shoulder “The true musician! Oh, Bauer, Bauer! That you should bury yourself in this —— ”

      But Bauer stopped him with a gesture. “Mrs. Brandeis is a busy woman. And as she says, this thing needs thinking over.”

      “After all,” said Mrs. Brandeis, “there isn't much to think about. I know just where I stand. It's a case of mathematics, that's all. This business of mine is just beginning to pay. From now on I shall be able to save something every year. It might be enough to cover his musical education. It would mean that Fanny — my daughter — and I would have to give up everything. For myself, I should be only too happy, too proud. But it doesn't seem fair to her. After all, a girl —— ”

      “It isn't fair,” broke in Schabelitz. “It isn't fair. But that is the way of genius. It never is fair. It takes, and takes, and takes. I know. My mother could tell you, if she were alive. She sold the little farm, and my sisters gave up their dowries, and with them their hopes of marriage, and they lived on bread and cabbage. That was not to pay for my lessons. They never could have done that. It was only to send me to Moscow. We were very poor. They must have starved. I have come to know, since, that it was not worth it. That nothing could be worth it.”

      “But it was worth it. Your mother would do it all over again, if she had the chance. That's what we're for.”

      Bauer pulled out his watch and uttered a horrified exclamation. “Himmel! Four o'clock! And I have a pupil at four.” He turned hastily to Mrs. Brandeis. “I am giving a little supper in my studio after the concert to-night.”

      “Oh, Gott!” groaned Schabelitz.

      “It is in honor of Schabelitz here. You see how overcome he is. Will you let me bring Theodore back with me after the concert? There will be some music, and perhaps he will play for us.”

      Schabelitz bent again in his queer little foreign bow. “And you, of course, will honor us, Mrs. Brandeis.” He had never lived in Winnebago.

      “Oh, certainly,” Bauer hastened to say. He had.

      “I!” Molly Brandeis looked down at her apron, and stroked it with her fingers. Then she looked up with a little smile that was not so pleasant as her smile usually was. There had flashed across her quick mind a picture of Mrs. G. Manville Smith. Mrs. G. Manville Smith, in an evening gown whose decolletage was discussed from the Haley House to Gerretson's department store next morning, was always a guest at Bauer's studio affairs. “Thank you, but it is impossible. And Theodore is only a schoolboy. Just now he needs, more than anything else in the world, nine hours of sleep every night. There will be plenty of time for studio suppers later. When a boy's voice