No, Lutie never got out of her Dream until she made a bold Sashay with a
Concert Company.  It was her Professional Debut.

Father fixed it.  The Idea of any one paying Real Money to hear Lutie sing struck him as being almost Good enough to Print.  But she wouldn’t be Happy until she got it, and so she Got It right where the Newport Lady wears the Rope of Pearls.

On the First Night the mean old Critics, who didn’t know her Father or Mother, and had never been entertained at the House, came and got in the Front Row, and defied Lutie to come on and Make Good.  Next Morning they said that Lutie had Blow-Holes in her Voice; that she hit the Key only once during the Evening, and then fell off backward; that she was a Ham, and her Dress didn’t fit her, and she lacked Stage Presence.  They expressed Surprise that she should be attempting to Sing when any bright Girl could learn to pound a Type-Writer in Four Weeks.  They wanted to know who was responsible for her Appearance, and said it was a Shame to String these Jay Amateurs.  Lutie read the Criticisms, and went into Nervous Collapse.  Her Mother was all Wrought Up, and said somebody ought to go and kill the Editors.  Father bore up grimly.

Before Lutie was Convalescent he had the Difficult Italian Arias carted out of the house.  The ’Cello Player came to call one Day, and he was given Minutes to get out of the Ward.

By the time Oliver looked in again Lutie was more than ready to pay some Attention to him.  She is now doing a few quiet Vocalizations for her Friends.  When some one who hasn’t Heard tells her that she is good enough for Opera, they have to open the Windows and give her more Air.

MORAL:  When in Doubt, try it on the Box-office.

THE FABLE OF THE COTILLON LEADER FROM THE HUCKLEBERRY DISTRICT WITH THE INTERMITTENT MEMORY

A Young Man who had made a Sudden Winning, and was beginning to act as Shawl-Holder and Emergency Errand-Boy for the Society Queens, seemed to have a great deal of Trouble with his Memory.  If he met Any One who had started with him a few Years before, and who used to Stake him to a Meal-Ticket now and then, or let him have a Scarf-Pin when he had to go out and make a Front, he could not appear to remember the Man’s Name or tell where he had seen him before.  When he was in a Loge at the Play-House with Exclusive Ethel and her Friends, he might look down in the Parquette and see the Landlady who had carried him through a Hard Winter and accepted a Graceful Wave of the Hand when she really needed the Board Money, but he found it impossible to Place her.  Even the People who came from his own Town, and who knew him when he was getting Five a Week and wearing Celluloid Cuffs, and who could relate the Family History if they wanted to Knock, they couldn’t make him Remember, even when they stopped him on the Street and recalled such Humiliations as the Time he used to pick Cherries on the Shares, and how Odd he looked in his Brother’s Made-Over Clothes.