Miss Billie's Decision [70]
And there's the doorbell, and the tenor, I suppose; so of course it's all over now,'' she sighed, rising to go down-stairs.
As it chanced, however, it was not the tenor, but a message from him--a message that brought dire consternation to the Chairman of the Committee of Arrangements. The tenor had thrown up his part. He could not take it; it was too difficult. He felt that this should be told--at once rather than to worry along for another week or two, and then give up. So he had told it.
``But what shall we do, Miss Greggory?'' appealed Billy. ``It _is_ a hard part, you know; but if Mr. Tobey can't take it, I don't know who can. We don't want to hire a singer for it, if we can help it. The profits are to go to the Home for Crippled Children, you know,'' she explained, turning to Arkwright, ``and we decided to hire only the accompanist.''
An odd expression flitted across Miss Greggory's face.
``Mr. Arkwright used to sing--tenor,'' she observed quietly.
``As if he didn't now--a perfectly glorious tenor,'' retorted Billy. ``But as if _he_ would take _this!_''
For only a brief moment did Arkwright hesitate; then blandly he suggested:
``Suppose you try him, and see.''
Billy sat suddenly erect.
``Would you, really? _Could_ you--take the time, and all?'' she cried.
``Yes, I think I would--under the circumstances,'' he smiled. ``I think I could, too, though I might not be able to attend all the rehearsals. Still, if I find I have to ask permission, I'll endeavor to convince the powers-that-be that singing in this operetta will be just the stepping- stone I need to success in Grand Opera.''
``Oh, if you only would take it,'' breathed Billy, ``we'd be so glad!''
``Well,'' said Arkwright, his eyes on Billy's frankly delighted face, ``as I said before--under the circumstances I think I would.''
``Thank you! Then it's all beautifully settled,'' rejoiced Billy, with a happy sigh; and unconsciously she gave Alice Greggory's hand near her a little pat.
In Billy's mind the ``circumstances'' of Arkwright's acceptance of the part were Alice Greggory and her position as accompanist, of course. Billy would have been surprised indeed--and dismayed--had she known that in Arkwright's mind the ``circumstances'' were herself, and the fact that she, too, had a part in the operetta, necessitating her presence at rehearsals, and hinting at a delightful comradeship impossible, perhaps, otherwise.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE CAUSE AND BERTRAM
February came The operetta, for which Billy was working so hard, was to be given the twentieth. The Art Exhibition, for which Bertram was preparing his four pictures, was to open the sixteenth, with a private view for specially invited friends the evening before.
On the eleventh day of February Mrs. Greggory and her daughter arrived at Hillside for a ten- days' visit. Not until after a great deal of pleading and argument, however, had Billy been able to bring this about.
``But, my dears, both of you,'' Billy had at last said to them; ``just listen. We shall have numberless rehearsals during those last ten days before the thing comes off. They will be at all hours, and of all lengths. You, Miss Greggory, will have to be on hand for them all, of course, and will have to stay all night several times, probably. You, Mrs. Greggory, ought not to be alone down here. There is no sensible, valid reason why you should not both come out to the house for those ten days; and I shall feel seriously hurt and offended if you do not consent to do it.''
``But--my pupils,'' Alice Greggory had demurred.
``You can go in town from my home at any time to give your lessons, and a little shifting about and arranging for those ten days will enable you to set the hours conveniently one after another, I am sure, so you can attend to several on one trip. Meanwhile your mother will be having a lovely time teaching Aunt Hannah how to knit a new shawl; so you won't have to be worrying about her.''
After all, it had been the great good and pleasure which the visit
As it chanced, however, it was not the tenor, but a message from him--a message that brought dire consternation to the Chairman of the Committee of Arrangements. The tenor had thrown up his part. He could not take it; it was too difficult. He felt that this should be told--at once rather than to worry along for another week or two, and then give up. So he had told it.
``But what shall we do, Miss Greggory?'' appealed Billy. ``It _is_ a hard part, you know; but if Mr. Tobey can't take it, I don't know who can. We don't want to hire a singer for it, if we can help it. The profits are to go to the Home for Crippled Children, you know,'' she explained, turning to Arkwright, ``and we decided to hire only the accompanist.''
An odd expression flitted across Miss Greggory's face.
``Mr. Arkwright used to sing--tenor,'' she observed quietly.
``As if he didn't now--a perfectly glorious tenor,'' retorted Billy. ``But as if _he_ would take _this!_''
For only a brief moment did Arkwright hesitate; then blandly he suggested:
``Suppose you try him, and see.''
Billy sat suddenly erect.
``Would you, really? _Could_ you--take the time, and all?'' she cried.
``Yes, I think I would--under the circumstances,'' he smiled. ``I think I could, too, though I might not be able to attend all the rehearsals. Still, if I find I have to ask permission, I'll endeavor to convince the powers-that-be that singing in this operetta will be just the stepping- stone I need to success in Grand Opera.''
``Oh, if you only would take it,'' breathed Billy, ``we'd be so glad!''
``Well,'' said Arkwright, his eyes on Billy's frankly delighted face, ``as I said before--under the circumstances I think I would.''
``Thank you! Then it's all beautifully settled,'' rejoiced Billy, with a happy sigh; and unconsciously she gave Alice Greggory's hand near her a little pat.
In Billy's mind the ``circumstances'' of Arkwright's acceptance of the part were Alice Greggory and her position as accompanist, of course. Billy would have been surprised indeed--and dismayed--had she known that in Arkwright's mind the ``circumstances'' were herself, and the fact that she, too, had a part in the operetta, necessitating her presence at rehearsals, and hinting at a delightful comradeship impossible, perhaps, otherwise.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE CAUSE AND BERTRAM
February came The operetta, for which Billy was working so hard, was to be given the twentieth. The Art Exhibition, for which Bertram was preparing his four pictures, was to open the sixteenth, with a private view for specially invited friends the evening before.
On the eleventh day of February Mrs. Greggory and her daughter arrived at Hillside for a ten- days' visit. Not until after a great deal of pleading and argument, however, had Billy been able to bring this about.
``But, my dears, both of you,'' Billy had at last said to them; ``just listen. We shall have numberless rehearsals during those last ten days before the thing comes off. They will be at all hours, and of all lengths. You, Miss Greggory, will have to be on hand for them all, of course, and will have to stay all night several times, probably. You, Mrs. Greggory, ought not to be alone down here. There is no sensible, valid reason why you should not both come out to the house for those ten days; and I shall feel seriously hurt and offended if you do not consent to do it.''
``But--my pupils,'' Alice Greggory had demurred.
``You can go in town from my home at any time to give your lessons, and a little shifting about and arranging for those ten days will enable you to set the hours conveniently one after another, I am sure, so you can attend to several on one trip. Meanwhile your mother will be having a lovely time teaching Aunt Hannah how to knit a new shawl; so you won't have to be worrying about her.''
After all, it had been the great good and pleasure which the visit