She sang once or twice, very quietly, in those early weeks. But she gave that up. She had a whole sheaf of songs with her. But after that first Vorspielen they seemed to have lost their meaning. One by one she looked them through. Her dear old Venetian song, "Beauty's Eyes," "An Old Garden"--she hesitated over that, and hummed it through--"Best of All"--"In Old Madrid"--the vocal score of the "Mikado"--her little "Chanson de Florian," and a score of others. She blushed at her collection. The "Chanson de Florian" might perhaps hold its own at a Vorspielen--sung by Bertha Martin--perhaps.... The remainder of her songs, excepting a little bound volume of Sterndale Bennett, she put away at the bottom of her Saratoga trunk. Meanwhile, there were songs being learned by Herr Bossenberger's pupils for which she listened hungrily; Schubert, Grieg, Brahms. She would always, during those early weeks, sacrifice her practising to listen from the schoolroom to a pupil singing in the saal. 18 The morning of Ulrica Hesse's arrival was one of the mornings when she could "play." She was sitting, happy, in the large English bedroom, listening. It was late. She was beginning to wonder why the gonging did not come when the door opened. It was Millie in her dressing-gown, with her hair loose and a towel over her arm. "Oh, bitte, Miss Henderson, will you please go down to Frau Krause, Fräulein Pfaff says," she said, her baby face full of responsibility. Miriam rose uneasily. What might this be? "Frau Krause?" she asked. "Oh yes, it's Haarwaschen," said Millie anxiously, evidently determined to wait until Miriam recognised her duty. "Where?" said Miriam aghast. "Oh, in the basement. I _must_ go. Frau Krause's waiting. Will you come?" "Oh well, I suppose so," mumbled Miriam, coming to the door as the child turned to go. "All right," said Millie, "I'm going down. Do make haste, Miss Henderson, will you?" "All right," said Miriam, going back into the room. Collecting her music she went incredulously upstairs. This was school with a vengeance. This was boarding-school. It was abominable. Fräulein Pfaff indeed! Ordering her, Miriam, to go downstairs and have her hair washed ... by Frau Krause ... off-hand, without any warning ... someone should have told her--and let her choose. Her hair was clean. Sarah had always done it. Miriam's throat contracted. She would not go down. Frau Krause should not touch her. She reached the attics. Their door was open and there was Mademoiselle in her little alpaca dressing-jacket, towelling her head. Her face came up, flushed and gay. Miriam was too angry to note till afterwards how pretty she had looked with her hair like that. "Ah! ... c'est le grand lavage!" sang Mademoiselle. "Oui," said Miriam surlily.