She tore back to the kitchen, picked up a dust cloth, and began to tidy up the place. She was considering her strategy. “I’ll ask him immediately why he didn’t take me into his confidence. And who is this girl, this accompanist? I won’t beat about the bush and I won’t act as if I cared.” She gave the table an extra rub and with a flourish of the cloth she swept some sheets of music to the floor.
“My goodness!” her father exclaimed as he picked up the scattered sheets. “What an eager beaver we’ve become! Is it Aspenitis or Karlitis?” he said grinning.
Judy felt her cheeks grow hot. “Father,” she said, “if that’s the way you appreciate my services, making despicable jokes—”
“Oh, come now, Judy, can’t you take a bit of razzing?” He looked at her flushed face and said with great sweetness, “I’m glad you know Karl. I think a lot of that boy and I don’t mean only in the music field. He has character and a great deal of talent and with hard work, I think his future looks bright. I’m trying to help him in a small way.”
She looked up gratefully. “Karl said he wanted to talk to you.” There was much more she wanted to say but she suddenly remembered her hair, her dress.
When the doorbell rang, a spruced-up Judy greeted the musicians and Karl. The music stands were taken from the hall closet, the lamps moved into place, and the men sat down busily chatting among themselves.
Judy motioned to Karl. “We can sit over here on this little sofa.” An innate delicacy made her refrain from calling it “the Victorian loveseat,” her mother’s term for this small, uncomfortable, but charming little piece. “We can see and hear perfectly,” she said as they seated themselves.
“I hear you’ve entered a competition for original compositions,” Judy said, plunging right in without further preliminaries.
“Yes. I guess Lynne told you, although I did want to keep it a secret,” he said somewhat sheepishly. “For one thing, it hasn’t been accepted as yet. I wanted to surprise you. I’m still working on it.”