At its termination, the audience applauded vehemently, and demanded more. The result was a Scherzo by Chopin. Afterward, Mrs. Lehmyl rose from the piano and fanned herself. Every body began simultaneously to talk.
Mrs. Berle presented Hetzel and Arthur in turn to the two ladies. Of the latter she was kind enough to remark, “Dot is a young lawyer down-town, and such a goot young man”—which made him blush profusely and wish his hostess a dozen apoplexies.
Mrs. Hart was tall and spare, a severe looking woman of sixty, or thereabouts. She wore a gray poplin dress, and had stiff gray hair, and a network of gray veins across the backs of her hands. A penumbra upon her upper lip proved, when inspected, to be due to the presence of an incipient mustache. Her eyes were blue and good-natured.
Mrs. Lehmyl’s manner was at once dignified and gracious. Arthur made bold to declare, “Your playing is equal to your singing, Mrs. Lehmyl—which is saying a vast deal.”
“It is saying what is kind and pleasant,” she answered, “but I fear, not strictly accurate. My playing is very faulty, I have so little time to practice.”
“If it is faulty, a premium ought to be placed upon such faults,” he gushed.
Mrs. Lehmyl laughed, but vouchsafed no reply. “And as for your singing,” he continued, “I hope you won’t mind my telling you how much I have enjoyed it. You can’t conceive the pleasure it has given me, when I have come home, fagged out, from a day down-town, to hear you sing.”
“I am very glad if it is so. I was afraid my musical pursuits might be a nuisance to the neighbors. I take for granted that you are a neighbor?”
“Oh, yes. Hetzel and I inhabit the upper portion of this house.”
“Ah, then you are the young men whom we have noticed on the roof. It is a brilliant idea, your roof. You dine up there, do you not?”