Dignity would show him that she was no silly girl who had come to be petted.
“Why so serious?” he asked. “I do not mean that you must arouse me—Michel Soedlich—do not think of me as the man in the case. Think of the man you love best and sing as though you wished to stir him to action.”
This was too bold. What right had Soedlich to assume that there was any man she loved best? However, his idea of interpretation probably was right. She repeated the song with archness.
Soedlich left the piano.
“No! no! no!” he cried. “You are flirting with him, but if he did what you asked him to you would run home and tell your mar’ You have missed the idea.”
He advanced toward her. Why did he have to do that? He put a hand on her shoulder. She wouldn’t permit it. She wrenched herself free. If he tried anything like that again she would leave.
Soedlich smiled.
“What did you think I was going to do?” he inquired mildly. “Don’t hunch your shoulders when you sing. How can you breathe that way?”
A lame excuse, Dorothy thought.
“Now, let us try that song again—but really, if you act so contrary, we will never get through the program.”
Program? What program? Was there something extra-musical in his meaning?
The repetition brought an approving nod from Soedlich.
“That was better,” he said. “That is how you should sing everything. Not so much here”’—he pointed to the throat—“and more here”—he indicated the heart. “Let us go on.”
She sang an Italian stand-by which had served singers for several hundred years. She did it pretty well, she
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