"And I'll always wear white," she promised, gayly, "and
there'll be pitchers on every table, frosty on the outside,
and minty on the inside, and you're all invited."
They had laughed at that, and so had she, but she had been
grimly in earnest just the same.
She shook her head now at Fenger's suggestion. "Imagine
Mrs. Fenger's face at sight of Mizzi, and Theodore with his
violin, and Otti with her shawls and paraphernalia.
Though," she added, seriously, "it's mighty kind of you, and
generous--and just like a man."
"It isn't kindness nor generosity that makes me want to do
things for you."
"Modest," murmured Fanny, wickedly, "as always."
Fenger bent his look upon her. "Don't try the ingenue on
me, Fanny."
Theodore's manager, Kurt Stein, was to have followed him in
ten days. The war changed that. The war was to change many
things. Fanny seemed to sense the influx of musicians that
was to burst upon the United States following the first few
weeks of the catastrophe, and she set about forestalling it.
Advertising.
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