The Colorado statesman., 1913-11-08
HER FIRST CONCERT
BY F. PRENTICE.

The wonderful afternoon had at last
arrived. Dorothy Clifford was to make
her debut as pianist at Claridge
hall, and Eustace, her fiance was to be
there
Dorothy had been educating herself
as a pianist for seven years. She had
many teachers, too. She had hoped to
make music her life career But many
a girl who dreams of a life career sur
renders it when the right man comes
along. And with Eustace to care for,
the piano had become a less valued
friend.
Still, Eustace,"' she had said, 81
can play once in a while at first, even
after we are married, and make few
extra dollars. Don't you think so?"
Eustace had been dubious, but Dor
othy's father was emphatically in
agreement with her.
You're going to give that piano re-
cital, anyway, Dorothy" he said.
Here I've spent nearly a thousand
dollars on your musical education,
from first to last, and talked about you
to my friends and how you are going
to take the town by storm; and now
it's up to you to make good"
But it will cost three or four hun
dred dollars for me to appear at Clar-
idge hail." said Dorothy.
Good" answered her father. "That
will show the newspaper critics that
you mean business. That will impress
them"
Dorothy's father was not very
worldly wise, but anyway he had his
will. And SO the fateful afternoon ar
rived.
When Dorothy arrived with her
father and Eustace and saw the pla-
cards in front of the building her
heart gave little throbs of pride. dor
othy Clifford" they announced, in
great black letters, under her picture.
Dorothy Clifford" and then, in small
er letters, gives her pianoforte re-
cital in Claridge hall''-the last words
very big again-"on Friday next at
1880"
Eustace squeezed her hand and her
father twisted his white mustache and
strolled along as proud as a king.
Room 4, Miss Clifford" they told
good-by to her father and sweetheart
and hurry round to the musicians en-
trance. She walked up and down cor
ridors-for Claridge hall is quite a
large place-and at last found room f..
They are waiting for you," said an
old gentleman at the stage entrance
little curtly, Dorothy thought. But
she had no time to bother about such
| things as that. She walked on the
stage, and one glance at the auditor
ium filled her with joy. The house was
full.
1t was not merely full, but packed,
overfiowing into the aisles. 1t was
also a representative house, for it
numbered men, women, girls and boys,
and as Dorothy walked forward to-
ward the grand piano, which, rather
oddly, she thought, occupied a corner
of the stage instead of the center, such
a salvo of hand-clapping broke forth
that the tears came into her eyes.
She could hardly see to read the
music that she unrolled and placed
upon the stand
At first she was timid. 1t was her
|
presence of these strangers discon-
certed her a little. Then, too, she
knew that her father and Eustace had
seats in the second row, but though
she had tried to see them she had
failed to do so. But the knowledge
that they were there encouraged her.
Her hands, little tremulous at first,
regained their power, and before she
had played half a dozen bars she had
forgotten where she was in the joy
of playing.
She did not even notice that there
was nobody to turn over the pages for
her. She lost herself in the ecstacy of
Chopin's divine creation, and, before
she knew it, the piece was ended.
Dorothy got up and bowed.
To her amazement there was not a
single hasd-clap.
Not one person out of that vast
audience had been sufficiently i'm
pressed to applaud. There was not a
whisper. They sat in their seats in
stony silence.
Dorothy controlled herself with diff
ficulty. She went slowly out through
the stage exit. She would not go
back. She would go home, She
Dorothy! Where have you been?"
1t was Eustace, Eustace standing at
her side. She tried to hide the tears
that filed her eyes.
Dorothy! That's the wrong room.
That's Number 8. We have been wait
ing for you a quarter of an hour. The
audience is getting impatient"
The absurdity OF the mistake sent
the girl into a reaction of hysterical
laughter. To whom had she been play
ing, then? She would not yield now
she would go on the right stage and
play her part. Otherwise-well. her
father would have to pay back the box
office receipts, and that would mean