“Only a father.”
“And did he send you here?”
“No, sir,” said Helen.
“Does he know that you have come?”
Helen shook her head somewhat uneasily. New difficulties seemed to be springing up in her path.
“After all,” thought the manager, “if she’s really worth engaging, her father’s consent is not essential. He will not object to her earning something by her voice. At any rate I’ll try her, and see if she has any talent.”
“What can you sing?” he asked, after a pause, in which Helen watched his face eagerly.
“What would you like to hear, sir?”
“Jeffries, what songs are announced for this evening?”
“‘The Widow Machree’ and ‘Comin’ thro’ the Rye,’ sir.”