lately had begun to feel as she fancied Wall must have done when
Pyramus wooed Thisbe through its chinks. She was a little startled
at first, then amused, then anxious, then heartily interested, as
every woman is in such affairs, and willingly continued to be a
medium, though sometimes she quite tingled with the electricity
which seemed to pervade the air. She said nothing, waiting for
Phebe to speak, but Phebe was silent, seeming to doubt the truth
till doubt became impossible, then to shrink as if suddenly
conscious of wrongdoing and seize every possible pretext for
absenting herself from the “girls’ corner,” as the pretty recess was
called.
The concert plan afforded excellent opportunities for doing this,
and evening after evening she slipped away to practice her songs
upstairs while Archie sat staring disconsolately at the neglected
work basket and mute piano. Rose pitied him and longed to say a
word of comfort, but felt shy he was such a reserved fellow so left
him to conduct his quiet wooing in his own way, feeling that the
crisis would soon arrive.
She was sure of this as she sat beside him on the evening of the
concert, for while the rest of the family nodded and smiled, chatted
and laughed in great spirits, Archie was as mute as a fish and sat
with his arms tightly folded, as if to keep in any unruly emotions
which might attempt to escape. He never looked at the program,
but Rose knew when Phebe’s turn came by the quick breath he
drew and the intent look, so absent before, that came into his eyes.
But her own excitement prevented much notice of his, for Rose
was in a flutter of hope and fear, sympathy and delight, about
Phebe and her success. The house was crowded; the audience
sufficiently mixed to make the general opinion impartial; and the
stage full of little orphans with shining faces, a most effective
reminder of the object in view.
“Little dears, how nice they look!” “Poor things, so young to be
fatherless and motherless.” “It will be a disgrace to the city if those
girls are not taken proper care of.” “Subscriptions are always in
order, you know, and pretty Miss Campbell will give you her
sweetest smile if you hand her a handsome check.” “I’ve heard this
Phebe Moore, and she really has a delicious voice such a pity she
won’t fit herself for opera!” “Only sings three times tonight; that’s
modest, I’m sure, when she’s the chief attraction, so we must give
her an encore after the Italian piece.” “The orphans lead off, I see.
Stop your ears if you like, but don’t fail to applaud or the ladies
will never forgive you.?
Chat of this sort went on briskly while fans waved, programs
rustled, and ushers flew about distractedly, till an important
gentleman appeared, made his bow, skipped upon the leader’s
stand, and with a wave of his baton caused a general uprising of
white pinafores as the orphans led off with that much-enduring
melody “America” in shrill small voices, but with creditable
attention to time and tune. Pity and patriotism produced a generous
round of applause, and the little girls sat down, beaming with
innocent satisfaction.
An instrumental piece followed, and then a youthful gentleman,
with his hair in picturesque confusion, and what his friends called
a “musical brow,” bounded up the steps and, clutching a roll of
music with a pair of tightly gloved hands, proceed to inform the
audience, in a husky tenor voice, that
“It was a lovely violet.?
What else the song contained in the way of sense or sentiment it
was impossible to discover as the three pages of music appeared to
consist of variations upon that one line, ending with a prolonged
quaver which flushed the musical brow and left the youth quite
breathless when he made his bow.
“Now she’s coming! Oh, Uncle, my heart beats as if it were
myself!” whispered Rose, clutching Dr. Alec’s arm with a little
gasp as the piano was rolled forward, the leader’s stand pushed
back, and all eyes turned toward the anteroom door.
She forgot to glance at Archie, and it was as well perhaps, for his