A Popular Schoolgirl by Angela Brazil (free ebook reader for ipad .txt) 📕

that crescendo passage very well indeed. We want a little more delicacy in these arpeggios, and then it will do. Your touch has improved very much lately.”

It was so seldom that her master launched forth into praise, that Ingred colored with pleasure. Now certainly seemed the time, if ever⁠—to put in a word for Bess.

“Oh, Dr. Linton, may I ask you to do something for me?” she blurted out.

He thrust back his hair with a mock-pathetic gesture.

“What is it?” he inquired humorously. “Another autograph album? Or a subscription? I’ve grown cautious by experience, and I don’t answer ‘Yes, thou shalt have it to the half of my kingdom!’ I never give blind promises.”

“It isn’t an autograph album (though I’d be glad to have your name in mine, all the same, if I may bring it some day), it is this: I’ve a friend at school, Bess Haselford, who plays the violin very well. She has lessons from Signor Chianti. She goes to all your recitals, and she would so love some time to try a piece over with the organ. Do you think, some day when you are in the Abbey, you could let her? I know it’s fearful cheek to ask you!”

“Why, bring her by all means,” said Dr. Linton heartily. “Let me see, I have an organ pupil tomorrow at 3:30. Suppose you come at half-past four, and I’ll give her ten minutes with pleasure. I can fit it in before the choir practice, I dare say.”

“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Ingred. “We can come straight on from school.”

It was delightful to have caught Dr. Linton in such an amiable mood. Ingred hastened to tell the good news to Bess, and also to beg the necessary permission from Miss Burd.

Bess, greatly thrilled, turned up next afternoon with her violin and music-case, and when classes were over they walked across to the Abbey. The pupil was just finishing his lesson, and some rather extraordinary sounds were palpitating among the arches and pillars of the old Minster.

“It must take ages to learn to manage all those stops and pedals properly,” commented Bess. “I’m glad a violin has only four strings⁠—they’re quite enough!”

They sat in a pew, and waited till the lesson was over, then ventured into the chancel. Dr. Linton saw them in the looking-glass which hung over his seat, and turning round beckoned them to him.

“So you want to hear what it’s like to play with an organ?” he said kindly to Bess, sounding the notes for her to tune her violin, and at the same time turning over her music. “What have we got here? It must be something I know, so that I can improvise an accompaniment. Let us try this Impromptu. Don’t be afraid of your instrument, and bring the tone well out. Remember, you’re in a church, and not in a drawing-room.”

Bess, fluttered, nervous, but fearfully excited and pleased, declared herself ready, and launched into the Impromptu. Dr. Linton accompanied her with the finished skill of a clever musician. He subdued the organ just sufficiently to allow the violin to lead, but brought in such a beautiful range of harmonies that the piece really became a duet.

“Why, that’s capital!” he declared at the conclusion. “What else have you inside that case? We’ll have this Prelude now; it’s rather a favorite of mine. The Bourrée? Oh, we’ll take that afterwards!”

Ingred had only expected Dr. Linton to play one piece with Bess, but he went on and on, and even kept the choir waiting while he made her try the Prelude over again.

“I’ve had quite an enjoyable half-hour,” he said, shutting the books at last. “You’re a sympathetic little player! Look here, the lady who was to have helped me with my recital on Sunday week has failed me. Suppose you take her place, and play the Prelude. It would go very well if we practiced it a few times together.”

“Play at the recital!” gasped Bess.

“Why not? Ask your father when you go home, and send me a note tomorrow, for I want to get the thing fixed up. These boys are waiting for me now. I have to train them for an anthem. You can come and practice with me on Friday at the same time, 4:30.”

Dr. Linton dismissed the girls as if he took it entirely for granted that the matter was settled. Bess was almost overwhelmed by the proposal. It was considered a great honor to play in the Abbey, and she had never dreamed that it could fall to her lot to be asked to take part in the Sunday recital. She was not sure how her father and mother would view the idea, but rather to her surprise they both readily acquiesced.

“We shall have to get your grandfather to come over and hear you,” said Mr. Haselford.

“Oh yes! And may I ask Ingred to stay with us for the weekend? You see, she can’t come all the way from Wynch-on-the-Wold for Sunday recitals, and it’s entirely owing to her that I’m playing. I should so like her to be there.”

Ingred accepted the invitation with alacrity. She had grown very fond of Bess lately⁠—so fond, indeed, that Verity’s nose was put considerably out of joint. Verity, though an amusing school comrade, was not a “home” friend. Apart from fun in their dormitory, she and Ingred had little in common, and had never arranged to spend a holiday together. She was a jolly enough girl, but so fond of “ragging” that it was impossible to do anything but joke with her. Bess, on the contrary, was a real confidante who could be trusted with secrets. The two friends spent an idyllic Saturday together. Mr. Haselford motored over to Birkshaw to fetch his father, and took the girls with him in the car. Mr. Haselford the elder proved a delightful old gentleman, deeply interested in music, and much gratified that his granddaughter was to play at the Abbey.

“It was a happy thought of yours, my dear!” he said to Ingred. “Why, I’ve often attended those recitals,