“Oh, thank you! You ore too kind. I did not think of charging you at all. It would be an advertisement for me if you sang it, and that would be sufficient payment.”
Hope was fully convinced that she was acting in a generous manner, and Theo agreed with this conclusion, so that it came as a shock to both when Miss Caldecott burst into a peal of laughter, and cried loudly, “Bless your innocent heart! I meant, what are you going to pay me? Didn’t you know that we were always paid for taking up a song? That is why we sing such rubbish half the time. I’m a business woman, and can’t afford to work for nothing. I’d like to oblige you, dear, and it’s a useful little song in its way—I believe I could do something with it—but I must have my commission.”
“Then I am afraid it is no use discussing the subject any longer. I cannot afford to pay anything,” said Hope quietly. She had turned very white, but her manner was calm and collected, and she rolled up the song with an air of finality which showed that she meant what she said. “Perhaps another day, when we are better off—”
“Charmed to see you, dear, at any time. But you’ll never get on in the world if you don’t pay out a bit at first; or if you do, it will be a mighty slow process. You think I’m a wretch, no doubt, but I dare say if the truth were known I’m as hard up as you are yourself; and I have no rich friends to help me. You have, and you ought to make them useful. Now, I’ll tell you what I will do for you! You mention my name when you hear of any one giving a reception, and every time you get me an engagement I’ll sing your song, and you shall play the accompaniment. That would help us both, and I’ll do as much for you if I hear of any children’s parties coming off.”
Hope’s thanks were very sweetly expressed, but disappointment was still the predominating feeling, and when the sisters found themselves in the street they exchanged a rueful glance under the light of a lamp.
“It seems as if no one wanted us,” sighed Hope sadly. “Whatever we try to do, there are a thousand people who do it a thousand times better. I wonder if we shall ever succeed.”
“As Mr Hammond said, it depends upon how much heart-breaking we can stand. We never shall if we lose heart before six months are over,” said Theo sturdily. “Cheer up, old girl; those letters will be arriving soon, and then you will be too busy to be depressed.”
Hope sighed and was silent. The ache at her heart made disappointment harder to bear, and Miss Caldecott’s offer of help seemed at present of little value. Aunt Loftus might, indeed, be willing to engage the services of a professional, but there was no one else of whom such a favour could be asked, and the reflection brought an added sense of friendlessness to the tired girl as she walked home through the crowded streets.
It is always the darkest hour before the dawn. So says the proverb, and in this instance it was fully justified, for no sooner had the girls passed the Hermit’s door than Philippa and Mudge flew to meet them, each waving a letter in her hand and keeping up a loud, excited chatter.
“For you, Hope! At last! Here they come!”