"He's a real musician, though. I often wish I could study under him. I'd love to play something with him, just once, to see how it feels to have him accompany me. I think it would be so inspiring, it would just make one let oneself go! I stay every Sunday evening after service at the Abbey to hear his recitals. Occasionally somebody plays the violin, and his accompaniment is simply gorgeous. He manages to make it sound like a whole orchestra. I've never played with an organ. It's so much fuller than a piano."
"Yes," agreed Ingred contemplatively.
Bess's remarks had given her an idea, but she did not want to communicate it at once to her friend. It was nothing more or less than that she should ask Dr. Linton to allow Bess to play with him some time in the Abbey. She wondered whether she dared. His temper was still decidedly irritable, and it was quite uncertain whether he would receive the suggestion graciously, or snap her head off. She thought, however, it was worth venturing.
"I'll try to catch him in an amiable mood," she decided.
In order not to arouse any grounds for irritation, she practiced particularly well, and took her next work to him at a high stage of excellence.
"Bravo!" he said, when she had finished her "Serenade." "I believe you've really got some music in you! You brought out that crescendo passage very well indeed. We want a little more delicacy in these arpeggios, and then it will do. Your touch has improved very much lately."
It was so seldom that her master launched forth into praise, that Ingred colored with pleasure. Now certainly seemed the time, if ever—to put in a word for Bess.
"Oh, Dr. Linton, may I ask you to do something for me?" she blurted out.
He thrust back his hair with a mock-pathetic gesture.
"What is it?" he inquired humorously. "Another autograph album? Or a subscription? I've grown cautious by experience, and I don't answer 'Yes, thou shalt have it to the half of my kingdom!' I never give blind promises."