"Oh—old George Harriman."
"No. You're on the wrong track; it isn't the unmusical people that keep me from singing; it's those who make me feel silly and de trop, somehow, when I'm doing it."
"I can't guess," said James after a pause.
"Well, it's Beatrice Carson!"
"No, not Beatrice! Why, she's very fond of music!"
"It's not that, as I tried to explain. She is such a wonderful, Olympian sort of person, so beautiful, so well-bred, so good, and tremendously wise and capable—you've heard about the work she's doing here in the Working Girls' League?"
"Something, yes."
"Well, it's perfectly extraordinary; they say she's been able to reach people no one else has ever been able to do anything with. Altogether, the thought of her listening to me makes me feel like a first-class fool when I stand up and warble, and even more so when I think of the time and money I waste on learning to do a little bit better something that isn't worth doing at all!"
"But you teach school," objected James. "That's sound constructive work."
"That," replied Miss Elliston, "is not for eleemosynary reasons."