he girl sing.

CHAPTER XXIII

"HALF LONDON WILL BE CALLING YOU POLLY"

And so it came about. Lavinia was sent for by Mr. Palmer, and she sang
to him. He was highly pleased with her voice, but he was afraid her
songs would not be to the fancy of his fashionable patrons.

"One half are mad to have nothing but Mr. Handel's music and t'other
half cry out for Signor Buononcini's. Your songs are like neither.
There's no taste for English ballads. They're out of fashion. Scales,
ornaments, shakes and flourishes are now the mode. For all that, I'd
like to make the venture with you just for once."

"Thank you, sir. If the people don't care for my songs, there's an end
on it. I'll have to wait as best I can till Mr. Rich opens his theatre.
I may have a singing part in Mr. Gay's opera. Mr. Gay has promised me.
Have you heard about his opera?" cried Lavinia eagerly.

"Oh, it's being talked of in the coffee houses, I'm told. But if Mr.
Rich has his way, it won't do. Maybe he'll cut out the songs. Mr. Rich
knows nothing about music. He can't tell 'Lilibullero' from 'Lumps of
pudding.' Still, it's something to be taken notice of by Mr. Gay."

Palmer was evidently impressed by Lavinia's talk, especially after she
had mentioned that she had sung to Dr. Pepusch at Mr. Pope's Villa. It
occurred to him that though Lavinia Fenton might be unknown now, a day
might come when she would be famous, and he could then take credit for
having recognised her talents.

Besides, the manager happened to know that Gay and Arbuthnot were at
that moment staying at Hampstead to drink the waters--the first to cure
his dyspepsia, and the second to ease his gout. Palmer decided to send
word to the poet-dramatist intimating that a young lady in whom he had
heard Mr. Gay was interested was about to sing at one of the Great Room
concerts and begging for the honour of his patronage. But he said
nothing to Lavinia about this. All he remarked was that she should sing
at his concert on the following Wednesday, and Lavinia went away in a
dream of pleasurable anticipation.

The eventful night came. Lavinia was full of enthusiasm but horribly
nervous. She felt she was competing with the two greatest composers of
music in the world. What if the audience hissed her? Audiences, as she
well knew, were not slow to express their likes and dislikes--and
especially their dislikes--in the most unmistakeable fashion.

The difficulty of her dress had been overco