I shall leave you with your cousin." "Yes; and I'm to be quiet, and behave pretty, I suppose ?" "You'll be just as quiet and demure as you used to be when you were serving in the music shop.

No loud laughing, no capers, no comic songs, and no dancing." "And am I to begin at once by asking for the money to be--what do you call it, transferred ?" "No; you are not on any account to say a word about the money; you are to go on living there without hinting at the money--without showing any desire to discuss the subject--perhaps for months, until there can't be the shadow of a doubt that you are the old woman's cousin.
You are to make much of her, flatter her, cocker her up, find out all the family secrets, and get the length of her foot; but you are not to say one single word about the money.

As for your manners, I'm not afraid of them, because when you like, you can look and talk like a countess." "I know now." She got up and changed her face so that it became at once subdued and quiet, like a quiet serving-girl behind a counter.
"So, is that modest enough, Joe?
And as for singing, I shall sing for her, but not music-hall trash.

This kind of thing.

Listen." There was a piano in the room, and she sat down and sang to her own accompaniment, with a sweet, low voice, one of the soft, sad German songs.
"That'll do," cried Joe.