"Well, one of them is called Mr. Somerset, and he is a musician, and he— he heard me sing. Miss Row made me sing on purpose. I was awfully frightened, but I got through all right, and—and what do you think he said?"
Esther felt the old demon jealousy clutching at her heart at once. "I don't know, I'm sure," she said coldly. "Do tell if you are going to, Penelope. I am too busy to wait."
"Oh, what?" gasped Angela, with eager, questioning eyes.
"He said,"—in an impressive, almost awed voice—"he said I had the promise of a very fine voice, and—and no expense ought to be spared in training it!" Penelope repeated the words slowly, like one in a dream.
"Oh, Pen!" Angela gasped, almost speechless with delight, "did he really?"
Pen nodded.
"What nonsense!" said Esther, in a strained voice, quite unlike her usual tones.
Angela turned on her reproachfully. "Essie, aren't you glad?"
"Of course I am," snapped Esther shortly; "but it is so silly to put such things into people's heads when there is no money. I suppose he thinks we all ought to give up everything for this, and—and never thinks that the rest of us might like to—to have lessons—"
Esther really did not mean a tenth of the hard things she was saying, and she hated herself for saying them, but that wretched temper of hers got the upper hand of her again. She knew she was being mean and unkind, and it added to her vexation; but she had not the strength of will to get the better of it. In her calmer moments she longed to be one of those who could rise above such mean jealousies, and be unselfish and brave and strong, but when the trial came she succumbed.