HERR HOFFMANN TELLS MILDRED THAT SHE IS TO PLAY AT THE PUBLIC RECITAL IN THE TOWN HALL
Mildred went home completely overwhelmed by her master's suggestion. The public recital given every year in the Town Hall by Herr Hoffmann's best pupils was a great event, at which many of the most critical music lovers in the city were generally present. It was well known that only students of unusual talent were allowed to take solo parts. The Professor was a very celebrated teacher, and had a reputation to keep up. So far, though St. Cyprian's made a particular cult of music, and Herr Hoffmann had taught there for many years, no girl had ever been judged worthy to play at this special annual concert. It was an honour to which even their wildest ambition had not aspired. To be thus chosen out, over the heads of Ella Martin and Elizabeth Chalmers, who were considered the "show" music pupils of the school, was a prospect calculated to agitate the most sober brains. But there was another side to it. To play such an important piece as the "Frühlingslied", which needed to be accompanied by a full orchestra, was indeed an ordeal for a girl hardly sixteen years of age. A public audience in the Town Hall was a different matter from the comparatively small gatherings of parents and friends at St. Cyprian's. The mere thought of it filled Mildred with nervous horror.
"I don't believe I could ever do it, Tantie," she shivered, as she discussed the project with her aunt. "I should turn tail and run away when I saw all the people. Need I? Can't I tell the Professor I won't?"
"It would be a sad pity to do that, and would be wasting a great opportunity. When Herr Hoffmann has shown such a special interest in you, it would be most ungrateful to refuse at least to try your hardest to please him. He is the best judge of what you can do, and you may be sure that he will not allow you to play at the concert unless you have given satisfaction at the rehearsals. Both he and Miss Cartwright have taken great pains with your music, and I think you owe it to St. Cyprian's to show that their trouble has not been thrown away. You must speak about it to Miss Cartwright to-morrow, and ask her opinion."
When Mildred broached the idea next morning, she found that the Principal heartily sided with Herr Hoffmann, and even made arrangements for her to have extra time at school for violin practice. She was to be allowed to omit certain classes, and to be excused various weekly essays, and her piano studies were for the next few weeks to yield place to the instrument upon which she showed the greater talent.
"Remember you will be playing for the credit of St. Cyprian's," said Miss Cartwright. "You must work both for yourself and for the sake of the school."
When the news leaked out of the honour that was in store for Mildred, the girls received it in various ways. Ella Martin and Elizabeth Chalmers congratulated her, and urged her to do her best. Correct players themselves, they were above any narrow feelings of jealousy, and were glad to see Mildred, whom they had hitherto thought inclined to be lazy, pushed forward and made to take pains. The general opinion of her own Form was divided. Music was so decidedly of first importance at St. Cyprian's that the matter naturally made a little stir. A number of the girls did not appreciate Mildred's real talent, and gave all their admiration to Lottie Lowman's more superficial performances.
"It's absurd," said Eve Mitchell. "Why should Mildred Lancaster be chosen above everyone else? I can't see that she's so musical. She missed three questions in the harmony yesterday. Her theory's dreadfully shaky. Why isn't Lottie asked to play?"
"Well, you see, it's violin," ventured Nell Hayward.
"Then Ella Martin's our crack player. It's very unpleasant for Ella to be passed over."
"I suppose that's Professor Hoffmann's affair," said Bess Harrison, taking up the cudgels on Mildred's behalf. "He'd have asked Ella if he'd wanted her."
"Think how tremendously it will make us score in the Alliance," urged Maudie Stearne. "I don't for a moment suppose that even the High School or the Anglo-German will have a girl playing at the Professor's concert. We'll beat them there, even if they take it out of us at games."
"Lottie may be our delegate, but Mildred's our music champion just now," declared Clarice Mayfield.
"We've got to keep her at it, though," added Bess.
It was a new thing to Mildred to work diligently and painstakingly as she had done for the last few weeks. It was quite against her natural inclination, and I fear that if it had not been for the thought of what St. Cyprian's expected from her, she would never have kept it up. As it was, she felt almost astonished at her own perseverance. Time after time she was tempted not to trouble about the "Frühlingslied", but to play instead the tunes that came into her mind, and enjoy herself.
"After all, why should one fag so terribly at a thing? I hate slogging," she confided to her chum, Kitty Fletcher.
"Why? Because you owe it to yourself and the school," exclaimed Kitty. "If I'd your talent, I'd be slaving. Do you think I'd do anything in games if I didn't train? Mildred Lancaster, you've just got to try. Some day I'm going to see your name painted on the board in the lecture hall, so please don't disappoint me."
There was a large board at St. Cyprian's on which were recorded the successes of former pupils who had gained distinction either by taking university or musical degrees. To find, some time, "Mildred Lancaster" emblazoned thereon in gold letters was an attractive goal of ambition. But between the present and that rosy prospect lay a long, dreary expanse of continual effort—effort which Mildred's artistic temperament hated and shrank from, the drudgery upon which every solid achievement must be built, and without which even the cleverest of people can accomplish little.