Page:Our Little Girl (1923).pdf/56

 The deprecating glances of Madame Schneider did not prevent Dorothy from obeying the behest.

Entering on a musical career evidently wasn’t at all as she had pictured it. Soedlich, according to pictures in the musical magazines, had an interesting face and there were strange stories of the methods he had used to bring warmth to the voice of a prima donna who had been known as the “icicle.” Now, Madame Schneider-

Going to Madame Schneider would be like going to Dr. Sill, the family dentist. It wouldn’t hurt much and it might even be beneficial, but it would be wearying beyond words. And she would feel constrained before this prim little woman. What she needed was a teacher who would bring things out of her, who would make her sing almost unspeakably well. Madame Schneider would make the most passionate love lyric sound like one of Professor Abendschein’s abominable exercises for developing the little finger.

Dorothy paced the room impatiently and finally looked out of the window. She could see a court and a fat woman cooking. Inspiration? Where? The fat woman cooking symbolized Madame Schneider and her studio. Oh-h!

The sliding door opened, and Madame Schneider ushered Mrs. Loamford into the anteroom.

“Dorothy, my dear,” said Mrs. Loamford, “Madame Schneider has consented to take you as a pupil. She thinks very well of your voice.”

Dorothy wished that Madame Schneider had rejected her—but Madame Schneider had not yet reached stage where possible pupils were discouraged.

“Your lessons will start next week,” continued Mrs. Loamford, “and at the start you will not have to practise very much.”