Mrs. Carfax sighed again.
“She has a lovely voice. You will be proud of her one day,” declared Miss Page, with her disarming smile.
“But what is she going to do with it? I would never consent to a child of mine singing in public, with her name in newspapers, and on placards and all that! It would break my heart.”
“Still you needn’t think of the future yet, need you? She has years of training before her.”
“But if she’s not going to do anything with it, what a waste of money!” exclaimed Mrs. Carfax, tragically. “I think it’s much better for girls not to have gifts,” she added.
Miss Page was rather disposed to consider that her guest had uttered a great truth.
Her reply however, was non-committal.
“Perhaps,” she said. “But if they do possess them don’t you agree with Mr. Carfax that it’s right to cultivate them? A gift of any sort is such a worrying thing,” she added persuasively. “And if it’s allowed to rust, it chiefly worries its possessor. Now that she’s doing what she was born to do, Sylvia will be contented. I don’t think it’s just because she’s getting her own way that she’s happy. It’s deeper than that. She’s satisfied because she’s fulfilling a need of her nature for which she’s no more responsible than she is for the colour of her very pretty eyes.”
Anne’s voice was so gentle, her smile so irresistible, that Mrs. Carfax was visibly softened.
“At any rate I’m glad it’s not art she’s got a taste for,” she conceded.