HIGH HONOR.
That afternoon Dorothy devoted to practice, giving special attention to the three pieces she was to play at the concert, two of which had been given place on the program. The third was to be held in readiness in case she needed to respond to an encore. Aunt Betty and Alfy listened to her and expressed their approval. They were never limited in their praise of her work, which always seemed to them beyond criticism.
“Good-bye, for a while,” called Dorothy, at the end of a stanza. “I will only be gone a few minutes, I hope. Mr. Ludlow, in my letter of instructions, told me to come to him at four o’clock. I have to play over my selections to him so he can criticize them.”
Dorothy walked slowly down the hall and knocked on the sitting room door. In a moment, to her surprise, Mr. Dauntrey opened it.
“Good afternoon,” said he. “Now, I shall have the pleasure of listening to you play, I hope.”
“Mr. Ludlow said that I was to come here at four o’clock. I think he wants me to play my selections over for him,” answered Dorothy.
“Yes, you are right,” said Mr. Ludlow, from his large easy rocking chair by the open window, which overlooked a court. “Yes. Stand over there and start in at once.”
Dorothy, thus enjoined, took up her violin and began playing. She finished her first piece without any interruptions on the part of Mr. Ludlow. She was about to start the second piece when he called to her to stop.
“Play the introduction to that piece again and a little louder, also a little firmer,” he ordered.
She did as she was told.
“That’s a little better,” he said, when she had finished. “But I should play the introduction still louder, so as to make a marked contrast when the melody proper starts in, by playing that very softly, like someone singing way off in the distance. And one more thing; in the last part, when you have that staccato melody, play that sharper. Now, try the piece all over again.”
Dorothy answered, “Yes,” and then played again, trying to do just as Mr. Ludlow asked her to, and when she finished she stood still, saying nothing, just waiting to hear what Mr. Ludlow would say. If she expected a word of praise she was to be disappointed.
“Very well, try the next one,” was all Mr. Ludlow said.
So the girl once more took up her violin, and filled the room with melody. This time she played her piece, so she thought, very poorly, in part, because of Mr. Dauntrey. She seemed to feel his eyes on her, and it made her nervous.
“Very well,” said Mr. Ludlow, much to her surprise. “That will be all for this afternoon. And, Miss Dorothy, try not to get nervous or excited to-night. I expect you to do your very best.”
“I will try,” smiled back Dorothy. “Good afternoon.”
Just as she reached the door, she saw Ruth, who stepped back into the shadow of the hall.
Ruth questioned, “Is he cross? And is Mr. Dauntrey there?”
“Mr. Ludlow isn’t cross, but he’s very business-like. And Mr. Dauntrey is in there, and I wish he hadn’t been,” answered Dorothy.
“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Ruth, “I just know he will be so cross with me, for if Mr. Dauntrey is in there I just can’t sing. He thinks I am a wonderful singer, and I know that I’m not. Still, I hate to have him think that I can’t sing at all.”
“You will do all right, dear,” comforted Dorothy. “Just think you are alone, and forget everything and everybody.”
“Very well,” answered Ruth, “and good-bye. I must go in and bear it,” saying which she walked up to the door and knocked.
Dorothy walked down the hall toward her own rooms, then she turned, took the elevator downstairs, and bought a postal, one showing a picture of the capitol. This she took to her writing desk, addressed it, and wrote just this, “Arrived safe. Visited the capitol this morning. Will write later. With love, Dorothy.”
She placed a stamp on it and mailed it, then hurried upstairs to her room again.
“I am rather tired,” she said to her aunt and Alfy, who were reading, “I think I shall rest a few minutes before I dress for dinner. We need to have dinner real early to-night, as we are expected to be at the National Theater at 7.30 p. m. Mr. Ludlow is to give us each a program, then, and tell us of any last orders he may have for us.”
“Shall I get your things all out and have everything all ready for you?” inquired Alfy.
“Yes, please.”
“What dress do you want to wear?” asked Alfy.
“I think you had better wear the pink one, dear,” suggested Mrs. Calvert.
“Very well, the pink one, Alfy,” called Dorothy.
“I will have all the things you need ready; shoes—I mean slippers, stockings, handkerchiefs, and gloves,” called back Alfy, as by this time Dorothy had reached her room, and was preparing for her rest.
Both Mrs. Calvert and Alfaretta continued to read for quite some time, and finally when she thought it was time for Alfy to get dressed, Aunt Betty said:
“Alfy, I think you had better start to get dressed, now, and as you are to lay out Dorothy’s things for her, I do not think you will have any too much time.”
“Surely, Aunt Betty, I will begin at once. I was so interested in my book that I forgot my duties,” answered Alfy, and she started into the next room and commenced getting Dorothy’s things ready first.
When she had finished this task, she walked back into the sitting room again and inquired, “Aunt Betty, I have finished getting Dorothy’s things ready. Will you please now tell me what you would like to have me wear?”
“I think you might wear your little white dress, with the pretty blue sash and ribbon of the same color, for your hair,” answered Mrs. Calvert. “And you might wear white shoes and stockings. We are merely going to be part of the audience, to-night, so I hardly think we need dress very much.”
“All right,” answered Alfy, cheerily, and started away again, humming a little tune under her breath. She was pleased to think she could wear her new white dress, with the pretty blue sash. And she thought she would ask Dorothy to tie the blue ribbon around her hair, as Dorothy always did such things so much daintier than she did. Still singing, she started to dress in earnest.
It wasn’t long before Dorothy awoke from her nap, and soon the two girls were dressed and ready to help each other with the finishing touches. Together they made short and quick work of this.
Mrs. Calvert looked up as they entered the room, and said, “Come here, and kiss me, dears. You both look very sweet; very pretty, indeed.”
“Do you and Alfy want to be audience again, while I play over my pieces once more?” asked Dorothy. “I’m sure Mr. Ludlow didn’t quite like the way I played one of them this afternoon.”
“Of course we do,” answered Aunt Betty. “We will each sit down and listen very attentively.”
“I will play first the last piece on the program,” announced Dorothy.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Calvert, smiling encouragingly at the girl.
Dorothy gave careful attention to her work, and played one after the other of the three selections through, pausing long enough between each piece so that they might know she was about to begin the next. The one Mr. Ludlow had taken exception to and criticised, that afternoon, she played last, paying strict attention to the parts he had indicated as needing correction.
When she had finished, she laid down her violin, and came and stood in front of her aunt, questioning:
“Do you think I played them well enough? Did I do better than I did this afternoon before I went in to see Mr. Ludlow, and did you notice the difference in the playing of the last piece?”
“My, what a lot of questions,” said Aunt Betty, laughing. “Now, to answer them all: Yes, I do think you played much better just now than you did before. And I think Mr. Ludlow’s corrections in that last piece improve it greatly. You see, he considers your work from the viewpoint of the audience.”
“I am glad you like the correction. I think it is better by far, myself. But I just wanted to get your opinion on it before I was quite satisfied,” replied Dorothy. “I guess, to change the subject, that we are all ready for dinner, so let’s go down; maybe some of the others are ready also.”
They found that all of the party were already at dinner, so they joined them in a quiet meal. Each seemed imbued with the responsibility that rested on their shoulders.
Dorothy, leaving her aunt and Alfaretta to follow her to the theater, started early with Ruth and Mr. Ludlow.
On the way to the theater, Mr. Ludlow said, “Just one final word of instruction: Stand either a little to the right or a little to the left of the centre of the stage; never just in the centre. It looks better from the house side. And try not to get nervous. Mr. Dauntrey will give you each a program. And now, I think you are all right.”
Mr. Dauntrey, joining them on their arrival, gave each a program. Dorothy noted that she was to be the third, and was quite pleased to find that she came in the first half of the program. She always liked to play and then go out and sit with her aunt and listen to the remainder of the recital. The programs were beautifully printed in gold and color, on a heavy white paper, on the cover of which was an eagle. The sheets were tied together with a red, white and blue ribbon. The contents read as follows:
“Are you going out in front to sit with your aunt and Alfaretta, after you have finished?” inquired Ruth, who was standing beside Dorothy.
“Yes, do you want to come out with me?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes. If I may,” answered Ruth. “Will you wait here in the wings till I have finished singing, and then we can go out together. I come right after you on the program.”
“I am anxious to see Miss Winter’s dance,” said Dorothy.
“And so am I, and to hear that trio sing,” answered Ruth.
“Do you want to see the stage?” called Mr. Dauntrey. “Come now, if you do. Mr. Ludlow wants you all to go and try it out; that is, I mean, practice making an entrance.”
The girls walked over in the direction in which Mr. Dauntrey led.
“Oh!” exclaimed Ruth, when the vista of the stage came into view. “Isn’t it pretty!”
“It is, indeed,” acquiesced Dorothy.
The stage was a spacious one. To the right was placed the grand piano, around which palms were artistically arranged. In the centre, and way to the rear, as a background, hung a large American flag. On each side of the flag ran a regular column of palms. Little plants and flowers were on the stage in such profusion as to transform it into a veritable fairyland.
“Wasn’t that a nice idea to put the flag back there?” said Ruth.
“I think the stage decorations are very artistic, and I am sure with such surroundings, everyone should do their very best,” said Mr. Dauntrey.
Just then they looked at the clock in the wings and saw that it was 8.15 p. m., the time announced to commence. They all walked off the stage and back into the wings.
As the curtain arose, Miss Robbia advanced to do her part.
Just then Dorothy heard Mr. Ludlow say, “I think the President is here.”
“Oh, I hope he does come,” answered Miss Ruth.
But Dorothy, as she went back to await her turn, was not quite so sure. It seemed a serious thing to play before the greatest dignitary in the land.
The first number at last was finished, then the second, then it was Dorothy’s turn. When she was on the stage, she looked out into the audience and there, sure enough, in the large, beautifully decorated box, sat the President and his party.
Surely the presence of such a notable guest should prompt her to do her best. She wondered if the fact of his being there would make her nervous. Then she thought of Jim and of what he would say, and then once launched upon her theme, she forgot everything else. Her whole soul, it seemed to the audience, was engulfed in her art. Never had instrument fashioned by hand been more responsive to human touch.
When she had finished playing, she heard vaguely the applause, and went out again before the curtain to bow her acknowledgment. Then a large bunch of American beauty roses were handed to her. A very pretty picture indeed did she make with the large bouquet of flowers in her arms.
When the first half of the concert was over, Mr. Ludlow came back and said: “The President would like Miss Ruth and Miss Dorothy to come to his box; he would like to congratulate you both.”
“Ah, that is pleasing, indeed,” exclaimed Dorothy.
“Surely we are honored,” added Ruth. They followed Mr. Ludlow out to the President’s box, where he and his family and a few friends sat. When they reached the box, the President rose and said, smilingly:
“I want to congratulate you young people on your success. It has been a great pleasure for me to hear you. Your playing, Miss Calvert, was entrancing.”
All the eyes of the audience were now turned on the presidential box, and there was a craning of necks, trying to see what was going on there.
The incident was soon over, the President had shaken hands with each, and Dorothy at last found time to look at the card attached to her roses. She imagined Aunt Betty had sent them to her. But she was very much surprised and greatly pleased when she saw Jim’s name on them, and wondered how he could have sent them. She hugged them close to her and kissed each pretty rose.
Just then Ruth came up and said, “I am ready now, dear, let’s go out in front. My! What beautiful flowers you have. Who sent them to you?”
“A friend,” answered Dorothy, blushing.
“Wasn’t he thoughtful to remember to telegraph them here for you,” laughed Ruth. “I wish I had a friend to send me beautiful flowers,” she added.
“Who gave you those beautiful violets you are wearing, that just match your eyes?” questioned Dorothy.
“Oh, Mr. Ludlow sent them. He always does, because he knows I love violets, but that’s different from having American beauty roses sent to one,” Ruth replied.
By this time they were around in front and had quietly sat down in the two seats reserved for them beside Aunt Betty and Alfaretta. Miss Winter had come on the stage preparatory to performing her dances.
She was a very pretty little girl, with blonde hair, and had a small, but well formed figure. The stage was cleared and the lights dull. She danced about the stage in such a light, breezy way that it seemed to the audience that she was wafted about by a spring breeze. She danced most artistically, and her rendering of the two dances was so perfect that the audience applauded again and again, though in response, she just made some curtain bows and retired.
The trio, which Ruth so wished to hear, came next. Their rendition was a long and exquisite one, and Ruth now realized why Mr. Ludlow had put them last. She turned to Dorothy and whispered, “Aren’t they wonderful!”
“Yes,” answered Dorothy. “They are the best we have.”
“That’s why,” explained Ruth, “Mr. Ludlow put them last, so they would leave a good impression of the whole concert in the people’s mind. I feel as if I just couldn’t sing at all.”
The concert was now over, and the audience indicated by the volume of applause that rang out that it was a great success. Everyone had done just what they thought was their very best, and many had received beautiful flowers. It wasn’t long before they were all home.