like Jessie Darcey exactly because she could
not sing; because, as they put it, she was "so natural and
unprofessional." Her singing was pronounced "artless," her voice
"birdlike." Miss Darcey was thin and awkward in person, with a sharp,
sallow face. Thea noticed that her plainness was accounted to her
credit, and that people spoke of it affectionately. Miss Darcey was
singing everywhere just then; one could not help hearing about her. She
was backed by some of the packing-house people and by the Chicago
Northwestern Railroad. Only one critic raised his voice against her.
Thea went to several of Jessie Darcey's concerts. It was the first time
she had had an opportunity to observe the whims of the public which
singers live by interesting. She saw that people liked in Miss Darcey
every quality a singer ought not to have, and especially the nervous
complacency that stamped her as a commonplace young woman. They seemed
to have a warmer feeling for Jessie than for Mrs. Priest, an
affectionate and cherishing regard. Chicago was not so very different
from Moonstone, after all, and Jessie Darcey was only Lily Fisher under
another name.

Thea particularly hated to accompany for Miss Darcey because she sang
off pitch and didn't mind it in the least. It was excruciating to sit
there day after day and hear her; there was something shameless and
indecent about not singing true.

One morning Miss Darcey came by appointment to go over the programme for
her Peoria concert. She was such a frail-looking girl that Thea ought to
have felt sorry for her. True, she had an arch, sprightly little manner,
and a flash of salmon-pink on either brown cheek. But a narrow upper jaw
gave her face a pinched look, and her eyelids were heavy and relaxed. By
the morning light, the purplish brown circles under her eyes were
pathetic enough, and foretold no long or brilliant future. A singer with
a poor digestion and low vitality; she needed no seer to cast her
horoscope. If Thea had ever taken the pains to study her, she would have
seen that, under all her smiles and archness, poor Miss Darcey was
really frightened to death. She could not understand her success any
more than Thea could; she kept catching her breath and lifting her
eyebrows and trying to believe that it was true. Her loquacity was not
natural, she forced herself to it, and when she confided to you how many
defects she could overcome by her unusual command of head resonance, she
was not