At once he had agreed that when the "Juggler" was played, this new opera should be presented to the public.
So Jeanne lived in a world of dreams, dreams that she felt could never come true. "But I am learning," she would whisper to herself, "learning of art and life. What more could one ask?"
Then came a curious invitation. She was to visit the studios of Fernando Tiffin. The invitation came through Marjory Dean. Strangest of all, she was to appear as Pierre.
"Yes, why?" Florence echoed. "But, after all, such an invitation! Fernando Tiffin is the greatest sculptor in America. Have you seen the fountain by the Art Museum?"
"He created that statue, and many others."
"That reminds me," Jeanne sought out her dress suit and began searching its pockets, "an artist, an interesting man with a beard, gave me his card. He told me to visit his studio. He was going to tell me more about lights and shadows."
"Yes. How they are like life. But now I have lost his card."
Florence returned to the island. There she sat long in the sunshine by the rocky shore, talking with Aunt Bobby. She found the good lady greatly perplexed.
"They've served notice," Aunt Bobby sighed, "the park folks have. All that is to come down." She waved an arm toward the cottonwood thicket and the "Cathedral." "A big building is going up. Steam shovels are working over on the west side now. Any day, now, we'll have to pack up, Meg and me.
"And where'll we go? Back to the ships, I suppose. I hate it for Meg. She ought to have more schoolin'. But poor folks can't pick and choose."
"There will be a way out," Florence consoled her. But would there? Who could tell?
She hunted up Meg and advised her to look into that mysterious package. "It may be a bomb."
"Don't need a gun. Got two of 'em. Good ones."
"Well, I didn't steal it!" Meg turned flashing eyes upon her. And there for a time the matter ended.
Jeanne attended the great sculptor's party. Since she had not been invited to accompany Marjory Dean, she went alone. What did it matter? Miss Dean was to be there. That was enough.
She arrived at three o'clock in the afternoon. A servant answered the bell. She was ushered at once into a vast place with a very high ceiling. All about her were statues and plaster-of-paris reproductions of masterpieces.