Oliver saw that he would have to Scratch the Musical Set or else begin to Read Up, so he changed his Route.  He canceled all Time with Lutie, and made other Bookings.

Lutie then selected for her Steady a Young Man with Hair who played the ’Cello.  He was so wrapped up in his Art that he acted Dopey most of the time, and often forgot to send out the Laundry so as to get it back the same Week.  Furthermore, he didn’t get to the Suds any too often.  He never Saw more than $3 at one time; but when he snuggled up alongside of a ’Cello and began to tease the long, sad Notes out of it, you could tell that he had a Soul for Music.  Lutie thought he was Great, but what Lutie’s Father thought of him could never get past the Censor.  Lutie’s Father regarded the whole Musical Set as a Fuzzy Bunch.  He began to think that in making any Outlay for Lutie’s Vocal Training he had bought a Gold Brick.  When he first consented to her taking Lessons his Belief was that after she had practiced for about one Term she would be able to sit up to the Instrument along in the Dusk before the Lamps were lit, and sing “When the Corn is Waving, Annie Dear,” “One Sweetly Solemn Thought,” or else “Juanita.”  These were the Songs linked in his Memory with some Purple Evenings of the Happy Long Ago.  He knew they were Chestnuts, and had been called in, but they suited him, and he thought that inasmuch as he had put up the Wherewith for Lutie’s Lessons he ought to have some kind of a Small Run for his Money.

Would Lutie sing such Trash?  Not she.  She was looking for Difficult Arias from the Italian, and she found many a one that was Difficult to sing, and probably a little more Difficult to Listen To.

The Voice began to be erratic, also.  When father wanted to sit by the Student’s Lamp and read his Scribner’s, she would decide to hammer the Piano and do the whole Repertoire.

But when Mother had Callers and wanted Lutie to Show Off, then she would hang back and have to be Coaxed.  If she didn’t have a Sore Throat, then the Piano was out of Tune, or else she had left all of her Good Music at the Studio, or maybe she just couldn’t Sing without some one to Accompany her.  But after they had Pleaded hard enough, and everybody was Embarrassed and sorry they had come, she would approach the Piano timidly and sort of Trifle with it for a while, and say they would have to make Allowances, and then she would Cut Loose and worry the whole Block.  The Company would sit there, every one showing the Parlor Face and pretending to be entranced, and after she got through they would Come To and tell her how Good she was.

She made so many of these Parlor Triumphs that there was no Holding her.  She had herself Billed as a Nightingale.  Often she went to Soirees and Club Entertainments, volunteering her Services, and nowhere did she meet a Well-Wisher who took her aside and told her she was a Shine—­in fact, the Champion Pest.

[Illustration:  CRITIC]