“A piano in a garden!” exclaimed Dorothy, and laughed softly to herself. “Who ever heard of such a thing? Yet, of course, the concert could not proceed without it.”
“Ah, my dear, here you are! You are fascinated with it all, yes?” questioned Herr Deichenberg, as he passed in a hurry. She nodded, smiling, and saw him rush hurriedly to the dressing-rooms below the stage to make sure all his pupils were present.
As he went the house electrician, with each hand on portions of the big switchboard, threw on the border and bunch lights, making the great stage almost as light as day. Then, out in front, Dorothy heard the orchestra as it struck into the overture, and hastening away, she seated herself in her dressing-room to await her turn on the programme.
Aunt Betty, she knew, sitting with Len and Jim in one of the front rows of the orchestra, would be eagerly awaiting her appearance. She resolved that not only her relative, but Herr Deichenberg, as well, should be proud of her achievements.
She heard the first number—a piano solo—then the great roar of applause that swept over the assemblage. This was followed by an encore. Then another round of applause.
The next number was a harp solo. This was followed by a piano duet, which, in turn, was succeeded by a vocal number. Following each the applause was almost deafening. Encores were allowed in each instance by the music master.
Finally, toward the close of another piano duet, a call boy came to the door of Dorothy’s dressing-room to say:
“Herr Deichenberg says tell you your turn is next, and you will please come at once and wait in the wings.”
Most girls would have felt a flutter of excitement when told that one of the crucial moments of their lives was at hand. Not so Dorothy Calvert. Her hands were steady and her confidence unbounded.
Holding her skirt slightly off the stage, that her new frock might present a spotless appearance, the girl, violin in hand, hurried to the wings.