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STORIES
STORIES
By English Authors in Germany
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STORIES
THE BIRD ON ITS JOURNEY
BY BEATRICE HARRADEN
It was about four in the afternoon when a young girl came into the
salon of the little hotel at C in Switzerland； and drew her chair up to the
fire。
〃You are soaked through；〃 said an elderly lady； who was herself trying
to get roasted。 〃You ought to lose no time in changing your clothes。〃
〃I have not anything to change；〃 said the young girl； laughing。 〃Oh； I
shall soon be dry！〃
〃Have you lost all your luggage？〃 asked the lady； sympathetically。
〃No；〃 said the young girl； 〃I had none to lose。〃 And she smiled a little
mischievously； as though she knew by instinct that her companion's
sympathy would at once degenerate into suspicion！
〃I don't mean to say that I have not a knapsack；〃 she added；
considerately。 〃I have walked a long distancein fact； from Z。〃
〃And where did you leave your companions？〃 asked the lady； with a
touch of forgiveness in her voice。
〃I am without companions； just as I am without luggage；〃 laughed the
girl。
And then she opened the piano； and struck a few notes。 There was
something caressing in the way in which she touched the keys； whoever
she was； she knew how to make sweet music； sad music； too； full of that
undefinable longing； like the holding out of one's arms to one's friends in
the hopeless distance。
The lady bending over the fire looked up at the little girl； and forgot
that she had brought neither friends nor luggage with her。 She hesitated for
one moment； and then she took the childish face between her hands and
kissed it。
〃Thank you； dear； for your music；〃 she said； gently。
〃The piano is terribly out of tune；〃 said the little girl； suddenly； and
she ran out of the room； and came back carrying her knapsack。
〃What are you going to do？〃 asked her companion。
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STORIES
〃I am going to tune the piano；〃 the little girl said； and she took a
tuning…hammer out of her knapsack； and began her work in real earnest。
She evidently knew what she was about； and pegged away at the notes as
though her whole life depended upon the result。
The lady by the fire was lost in amazement。 Who could she be？
Without luggage and without friends； and with a tuning…hammer！
Meanwhile one of the gentlemen had strolled into the salon； but
hearing the sound of tuning； and being in secret possession of nerves； he
fled； saying； 〃The tuner； by Jove！〃
A few minutes afterward Miss Blake； whose nerves were no secret
possession； hastened into the salon； and； in her usual imperious fashion；
demanded instant silence。
〃I have just done；〃 said the little girl。 〃The piano was so terribly out of
tune； I could not resist the temptation。〃
Miss Blake； who never listened to what any one said； took it for
granted that the little girl was the tuner for whom M。 le Proprietaire had
promised to send； and having bestowed on her a condescending nod；
passed out into the garden； where she told some of the visitors that the
piano had been tuned at last； and that the tuner was a young woman of
rather eccentric appearance。
〃Really； it is quite abominable how women thrust themselves into
every profession；〃 she remarked； in her masculine voice。 〃It is so
unfeminine； so unseemly。〃
There was nothing of the feminine about Miss Blake； her horse…cloth
dress； her waistcoat and high collar； and her billycock hat were of the
masculine genus； even her nerves could not be called feminine； since we
learn from two or three doctors （taken off their guard） that nerves are
neither feminine nor masculine； but common。
〃I should like to see this tuner；〃 said one of the tennis…players； leaning
against a tree。
〃Here she comes；〃 said Miss Blake； as the little girl was seen
sauntering into the garden。
The men put up their eye…glasses； and saw a little lady with a childish
face and soft brown hair； of strictly feminine appearance and bearing。 The
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STORIES
goat came toward her and began nibbling at her frock。 She seemed to
understand the manner of goats； and played with him to his heart's content。
One of the tennis players； Oswald Everard by name； strolled down to the
bank where she was having her frolic。
〃Good…afternoon；〃 he said； raising his cap。 〃I hope the goat is not
worrying you。 Poor little fellow！ this is his last day of play。 He is to be
killed to…morrow for /table d'hote/。〃
〃What a shame！〃 she said。 〃Fancy to be killed； and then grumbled at！〃
〃That is precisely what we do here；〃 he said； laughing。 〃We grumble at
everything we eat。 And I own to being one of the grumpiest； though the
lady in the horse…cloth dress yonder follows close upon my heels。〃
〃She was the lady who was annoyed at me because I tuned the piano；〃
the little girl said。 〃Still； it had to be done。 It was plainly my duty。 I
seemed to have come for that purpose。〃
〃It has been confoundedly annoying having it out of tune；〃 he said。
〃I've had to give up singing altogether。 But what a strange profession you
have chosen！ Very unusual； isn't it？〃
〃Why； surely not；〃 she answered； amused。 〃It seems to me that every
other woman has taken to it。 The wonder to me is that any one ever scores
a success。 Nowadays； however； no one could amass a huge fortune out of
it。〃
〃No one； indeed！〃 replied Oswald Everard； laughing。 〃What on earth
made you take to it？〃
〃It took to me；〃 she said simply。 〃It wrapped me round with
enthusiasm。 I could think of nothing else。 I vowed that I would rise to the
top of my profession。 I worked day and night。 But it means incessant toil
for years if one wants to make any headway。〃
〃Good gracious！ I thought it was merely a matter of a few months；〃 he
said； smiling at the little girl。
〃A few months！〃 she repeated； scornfully。 〃Y