The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1907-03-30
THE EVENING STOR
Her Easter JOY.
(By Esther Joyce.)


The girl had a true but quite un-
trained voice. and she sang in common
place. soulIess fashion the air of a. four
part sacred song.
Wasn't it shivery and grand where
the bass took up the tuner
The girls hands came down on the
keys with crash. She had not dream
ed that Miss Amy had come into the
room. Most of the boarders did not
come down stairs until the tea bell had
rung. Miss Amy was almost as startled
as the girl. She had been in the house
five weeks and never exchanged a word
with any one save the landlady:
Were you at st. Augustin's this af-
ternoon?' inquired the girl, swinging
around on the piano stool.
oh yes" replied Miss Amy, simply.
i've been there every Sunday since
heard you sang there In the choir"
I'm sure it is awfully kind of you to
say so. I don't do much, you know,
just one of the chorus, but it's $3.50 per,
and you meet real nice people, too. I'd
have Joined the Musical League, too,
only you've got to report for every re-
hearsal or lose your tickets for the last
concert
Miss Amy sat like one entranced.
Hero was a girl who did not simply buy
admission tickets and listen to others.
She was IN it all, in the world of music.
from which Miss Amy had always been
excluded by the iron key, marked
Duty.
'How-how do you manage to get
into a chcir-or a league or anything
of that sort?'
The girl felt fattered as she looked
into Miss Amy's kindling face
"Oh, they're always looking for good
sight readers with fresh, clear voices
in the big choirs. Sometimes you get
paid, sometimes you don't. I didn't get
anything last year. But the easiest
way to get in is to take lessons from
the choirnnaster-private lessons. Then
Mr.. Weston will put you in the choir to
jolly you along, whether you can sing
or not You're new to New York, and
you wouldn't believe the graft
The clang of the supper bell drowned
the latter part of the sentence and the
girl rose abruptly. Miss Amy followed
scarcely knew what was spread before
them. What mattered food or drink, or
sordid landladies or gosstping boarders,
when she had found the key to her par
adise at last? Perhaps 1t was graft
perhaps the girl spoke thoughtlessly;
The next morning very early Miss
Amy went shopping. She told the mil
liner she wanted brown hat to match |
her suit. mo, not a toque like she had |
on; something younger" and she des-
cribed quite accurately the hat which |
the girl had worn to church the after |
noon before.
.'rll wear this" she said, "and you |
can send the old one home"
Next she went to the nearest drug |
store and studied the directory. yves |
ton, Albert, singing teacher. AL West
- street"
AS she left the drug store she spied a |
florists window, and she stopped for a |
bouquet of violets. Then again she hes |
itated. The crisis of this. her new life, |
was at hand. She allowed three cars to |
pass, and then with firmly compressed |
lips she signaled for a hanson. At the |
boarding house every one said that in |
New York one must keep up appear |
ances Perhaps IL he thought she could |
afford to ride in hansoms he would |
overlook her vocal deficiencies.
Albert Weston, worn by his struggles |
with an Indifferent pupil, was standing |
at the window of his studio when the |
hanson drew up before the building |
and the brown, wrenlike figure stepped |
cautiously from the vehicle and shot |
questioning glance up the brownstone /
front.
I'm glad I took the hanson" COM
mented Miss Amy as she mounted the
steps, This was Hfei An absurd thrill |
swept over her and brought a delicate
and most becoming blush to her face.
Mr.. Weston studied her curiousiy,
hands deep in his pockets, When she
asked almost timidly the privilege or
studying with him. Prices, hours, ev-
erything seemed secondary to the fear
that he might not accept her as pupil.
He tried her voice, paced the room
few moments and then said gravely:
1 want to be quite frank with YOU You
will never be a. great singer. You have
a sweet harmless, drawing room voice,
but don't want you to go INTO tne
opera singer In time. You have begun
too late for that"
Again the delicate flush mounted to
her face.
my own pleasure. II could not study
sooner. It is Just for the JOY OF being
able to sing for myself"
He stopped short in his nervous
walk and looked at her. Such sim
plicity, such humility, such lack or
am bition, almost staggered him.
perhaps some tirne-when my
voice is a little stronger-you might,
that is, If it would be quite right, you
might let me join your choir at ST.
first vacancy there u.s." he assent
ed, heartily. What our congregation
likes is number of sweet, correct
voices By the time some one gets
tired of rehearsals or marrtes or
moves away, I'll have your voice
placed and be glad to take you on;
And SO commenced the musical ca
reer of Miss Amy Carter, aged thirty
one, residence a second-class boarding
house; occupation. spending the small
which had come to her
suddenly after life Of narrow drudg-
ery and unrelieved sacrifice. At first
her lessons opened and closed with al
most monosyllabic conversation, but
In time the musician delved beneath
the surface and found the heart which
for years had almost starved for mu-
sic. 1t had been born in her, she
thought, but there had been work to
do, so heavy that her hands had grown
too rough and stin to play the old
organ. There were two IN
valids to nurse when the village choir
would have been glad OF her services.
And SO she counted her love IS dead l.