The last note of the song died away, and the master turned to Doris with an expression she had never seen on his face before.
“Ah, Miss Force,” he said, “you have the divine spark! You will go far! This summer you must study hard your French and German—and perhaps, who knows, you shall yet be presented in Grand Opera!”
Doris scarcely could believe her own ears, for she knew her teacher was not given to idle praise. Grand Opera! How she longed to become famous! She could almost see herself on the stage, taking her curtain calls, making her bows, accepting the flowers.
She was brought back to reality by hearing her teacher repeat, more sternly:
“This summer you must work—study hard your languages.”
The lesson went on, and at five o’clock Doris left the studio, still somewhat dazed at the thought of what might be ahead of her.
“I will work,” she told herself as she walked slowly toward the street car. “I’ll work night and day!”
Doris had always been one to make the most of her opportunities, and from childhood she had determined upon a career. Her sweet bell-like soprano voice had been inherited from her mother, but only training and diligent practice had developed its full power and volume. Doris’s ability and her willingness to help others had made her much in demand as a singer at teas, parties and entertainments.
Many girls would have been satisfied with such popularity, but not Doris Force. From the very start she had set her heart upon reaching the highest rung in the ladder.
“I must study my German and my French this summer,” she told herself, “and I really can’t do much by myself. I should have a teacher.”