The Art Club hall was quite full as they entered; but there were seats well down in front, and there they found most of the school girls under Miss Milwood’s charge.  Esther was one of this party; and Kitty made a great point of leaning forward and bowing to her with much graciousness.  The next moment she was whispering to Laura, “There, didn’t I behave prettily to Esther this time?  You’ll see now—­” But at that instant a slender dark-eyed gentleman, accompanied by one of the artists, was seen coming rapidly up the aisle, and, “Look, look, there he is!” cried Kitty, “and isn’t he elegant?”

And Laura looking, as she was told, found no reason to disagree with this comment.

“But I do hope,” whispered the irrepressible Kitty again, as Monsieur Baudouin ascended the platform,—­“I do hope he is as interesting as he looks; appearances are deceitful sometimes.”  But no one of that audience found Pierre Baudouin’s appearance deceitful.  He was more than interesting,—­he was enthralling as he went on with his almost loving consideration of his subject, setting before his hearers, in a melodious voice and very good English, some of the results of his great knowledge and experience.  You could have heard a pin drop, as the saying goes, so spell-bound was the audience; and at the end there was a warm outburst of applause, and then a gathering about him, as he left the platform, of the various artists, and others who were eager to speak with him.  He was standing with this little group, when Laura, watching and listening just outside of it, heard him say, “There is a remarkable etching that I wish I could show you, for it proves completely the theory I have just placed before you.  I saw it but once, in the artist’s own studio, as I was passing through Munich.  When a little later I heard that the artist was dead, and his effects for sale, I tried to buy the etching, but was told that it had been given to a friend, a Mr. John Wybern.  Since then, I have learned that Mr. Wybern has also died, and I started again on my search; but it has been fruitless so far, though I still hope I may come across it, and be able, if not to add it to my collection, to examine it again.  The artist, by the way, is the same one that painted that remarkable picture, ‘Rebecca the Jewess.’”

Laura turned hastily around to look for Esther.  She had not to look far.  Esther was just behind her.  “Esther, did you hear?” she asked.

Esther nodded.

“Do you know about the etching?”

[Illustration:  She was addressing Monsieur Baudouin]

“Yes, it hangs in our parlor.  I wish I dared go forward now and tell him.”

“Oh, Esther, do, do!”

But Esther hung back.  Then Laura obeyed an impulse that forever after filled her with astonishment.  She pressed forward, and, before she had time to think twice, was addressing Monsieur Baudouin, and telling him what she knew.