to be played and hardly
ever dared. Perhaps that was how it was with the English. They knew, but
they did not dare. No. The two she had just heard playing were, she felt
sure, imitating something--but hers would be no imitation. She would
play as she wanted to one day in this German atmosphere. She wished now
she were going to have lessons. She had in fact had a lesson. But she
wanted to be alone and to play--or perhaps with someone in the next room
listening. Perhaps she would not have even the chance of practising.

9

Minna rippled through a Chopin valse that made Miriam think of an apple
orchard in bloom against a blue sky, and was followed by Jimmie who
played the Spring Song with slightly swaying body and little hands that
rose and fell one against the other, and reminded Miriam of the finger
game of her childhood--"Fly away Jack, fly away Jill." She played very
sweetly and surely except that now and again it was as if the music
caught its breath.

Jimmie's Lied brought the piano solos to an end, and Fraulein Pfaff
after a little speech of criticism and general encouragement asked,
to Miriam's intense delight, for the singing. "Millie" was called for.
Millie came out of a corner. She was out of Miriam's range at meal-times
and appeared to her now for the first time as a tall child-girl in a
high-waisted, blue serge frock, plainly made with long plain sleeves, at
the end of which appeared two large hands shining red and shapeless
with chilblains. She attracted Miriam at once with the shell-white and
shell-pink of her complexion, her firm chubby baby-mouth and her wide
gaze. Her face shone in the room, even her hair--done just like the
Martins', but fluffy where theirs was flat and shiny--seemed to give out
light, shadowy-dark though it was. Her figure was straight and flat, and
she moved, thought Miriam, as though she had no feet.

She sang, with careful precision as to the accents of her German, in
a high breathy effortless soprano, a little song about a child and a
bouquet of garden flowers.

The younger Martin in a strong hard jolting voice sang of a love-sick
Linden tree, her pale thin cheeks pink-flushed.

"Herr Kapellmeister chooses well," smiled Fraulein at the end of this
performance.

The Vorspielen was brought to an end by Gertrude Goldring's song. Clara
Bergmann sat down to accompany her, and Miriam roused herself for
a double listening. There would be Clara's' opening and Clara's
accompan