“Didn't you?” she murmured abstractedly. “I supposed _you'd_ sung them before; but you see I never did--until the other night. There, let's try this one!”
“This one” was followed by another and another. Then Billy drew a long breath.
“There! that must positively be the last,” she declared reluctantly. “I'm so hoarse now I can scarcely croak. You see, I don't pretend to sing, really.”
“Don't you? You sing far better than some who do, anyhow,” retorted the man, warmly.
“Thank you,” smiled Billy; “that was nice of you to say so--for my sake--and the others aren't here to care. But tell me of yourself. I haven't had a chance to ask you yet; and--I think you said Mary Jane was going to study for Grand Opera.”
Arkwright laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
“She is; but, as I told Calderwell, she's quite likely to bring up in vaudeville.”
“Calderwell! Do you mean--Hugh Calderwell?” Billy's cheeks showed a deeper color.
The man gave an embarrassed little laugh. He had not meant to let that name slip out just yet.
“Yes.” He hesitated, then plunged on recklessly. “We tramped half over Europe together last summer.”
“Did you?” Billy left her seat at the piano for one nearer the fire. “But this isn't telling me about your own plans,” she hurried on a little precipitately. “You've studied before, of course. Your voice shows that.”
“Oh, yes; I've studied singing several years, and I've had a year or two of church work, besides a little concert practice of a mild sort.”
“No, but I am,” declared Billy, with conviction. “They couldn't help liking it.”
Arkwright laughed again. Just how well they had “liked it” he did not intend to say. Their remarks had been quite too flattering to repeat even to this very plainly interested young woman--delightful and heart-warming as was this same show of interest, to himself.
Billy gave an excited little bounce in her chair.
“And you'll begin to learn rôles right away?”
“I already have, some--after a fashion--before I came here.”
“Really? How splendid! Why, then you'll be acting them next right on the Boston Opera House stage, and we'll all go to hear you. How perfectly lovely! I can hardly wait.”
Arkwright laughed--but his eyes glowed with pleasure.
“Aren't you hurrying things a little?” he ventured.