"Enough," said he.
Silence, an awful silence. She recalled what Mrs. Belloc had told her
about him, what Mrs. Brindley had implied. But she got no consolation.
She said timidly:
"Really, Mr. Jennings, I can do better than that. Won't you let me try
a song?"
"God forbid!" said he. "You can't stand. You can't breathe. You
can't open your mouth. Naturally, you can't sing."
She dropped to a chair.
"Take the book, and go over the same thing, sitting," said he.
She began to remove her wraps.
"Just as you are," he commanded. "Try to forget yourself. Try to
forget me. Try to forget what a brute I am, and what a wonderful
singer you are. Just open your mouth and throw the notes out."
She was rosy with rage. She was reckless. She sang. At the end of
three pages he stopped her with an enthusiastic hand-clapping. "Good!
Good!" he cried. "I'll take you. I'll make a singer of you. Yes, yes,
there's something to work on."
The door opened. A tall, thin woman with many jewels and a superb fur
wrap came gliding in. Jennings looked at the clock. The hands pointed
to eleven. Said he to Mildred:
"Take that book with you. Practice what you've done to-day. Learn to
keep your mouth open. We'll go into that further next time." He was
holding the door open for her. As she passed out, she heard him say:
"Ah, Mrs. Roswell. We'll go at that third song first."
The door closed. Reviewing all that had occurred, Mildred decided that
she must revise her opinion of Jennings. A money-maker he no doubt
was. And why not? Did he not have to live? But a teacher also, and a
great teacher. Had he not destroyed her vanity at one blow, demolished
it?--yet without discouraging her. And he went straight to the bottom
of things--very different from any of the teachers she used to have
when she was posing in drawing-rooms as a person with a voice equal to
the most difficult opera, if only she weren't a lady and therefore not
forced to be a professional singing person. Yes, a great teacher--and
in deadly earnest. He would permit no trifling! How she would have to
work!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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