Page:Our Little Girl (1923).pdf/162

 It won’t be necessary,” he said. “I have it here.”

He took the Underwood leaflet from the piano.

“Shall we go through it now?” he asked, “or would you care to have a little supper with me first?”

“A little supper” was a dangerous thing.

“Why—I think I’d like to go over it now,” she decided discreetly.

“Very good.”

He went to the piano and struck several chords softly. His touch was precise and delicate. Dorothy had heard that Soedlich had been a popular accompanist before he had given up all of his time to coaching.

She sang her first song for him, wishing all the time that Soedlich were to be at the piano for her at her recital.

“Not bad at all, my dear, he commented, “but why do you hold your head so high when you sing? Give a pretty throat a chance, my child.”

He placed his hands over her hair.

“Like this.”

He moved her head gently.

“Now sing it again from that position.”

Dorothy repeated the song.

“That was so much better. Your Italian diction is re- markably good for an American. Do you speak Italian?”

“I studied it at the conservatory, but I can’t speak it.”

“That’s a pity. One can say so many things in Italian that cannot be said in any other language. You should learn it.”

He turned to her next song.

“Pergolese,” he remarked. “A good old stand-by. But how few sing it well!”

He played the introduction.

Dorothy sang “Se tu m’ami,” as Madame Graaberg had taught it to her.