e never sung it worse.
You do not improve. Another lesson like this, and we shall go back and
begin all over again."

The girl, a fattish, "temperamental" blonde, burst into tears.

"Kindly take that out into the hall," said Jennings coldly. "Your time
is up. We cannot waste Miss Stevens's time with your hysterics."

Miss Bristow switched from tears to fury. "You brute! You beast!" she
shrieked, and flung herself out of the room, slamming the door after
her. Jennings took a book from a pile upon a table, opened it, and set
it on a music-stand. Evidently Miss Bristow was forgotten--indeed, had
passed out of his mind at half-past ten exactly, not to enter it again
until she should appear at ten on Monday morning. He said to Mildred:

"Now, we'll see what you can do. Begin."

"I'm a little nervous," said Mildred with a shy laugh. "If you don't
mind, I'd like to wait till I've got used to my surroundings."

Jennings looked at her. The long sharp nose seemed to be rapping her
on the forehead like a woodpecker's beak on the bark of the tree.
"Begin," he said, pointing to the book.

Mildred flushed angrily. "I shall not begin until I CAN begin," said
she. The time to show this man that he could not treat her brutally
was at the outset.

Jennings opened the door into the hall. "Good day, Miss Stevens," he
said with his abrupt bow.

Mildred looked at him; he looked at her. Her lip trembled, the hot
tears flooded and blinded her eyes. She went unsteadily to the
music-stand and tried to see the notes of the exercises. Jennings
closed the door and seated himself at the far end of the room. She
began--a ridiculous attempt. She stopped, gritted her teeth, began
again. Once more the result was absurd; but this time she was able to
keep on, not improving, but maintaining her initial off-key quavering.
She stopped.

"You see," said she. "Shall I go on?"

"Don't stop again until I tell you to, please," said he.

She staggered and stumbled and somersaulted through two pages of
DO-RE-ME-FA-SOL-LA-SI. Then he held up his finger.

"Enough," said he.

Silence, an awful silence. She recalled what Mrs. Belloc had told her
about him, what Mrs. Brindley had implied. But she got no consolation.
She said timidly:

"Really, Mr. Jennings, I can do better than that. Won't you let me try
a song?"

"God forbid!" said he. "You can't stand. You can't breathe. You
can't open your mouth. Naturally, you can't s