The Argosy — page 159: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

144 Cur Amateur Concert. Mrs. Smallwood’s Dresden vases ; then they drew, and to my great grati- fication Fred drew treble, and Sutton bass. ‘The latter flounced on to the other music-chair with a very sour visage. ‘ You'll have to alter the variation on page two,” he snarled. ‘‘ You haven’t the octave play to do it as it’s written.” Fred laughed, and they began to read the piece together. Presently a pause in the music. ‘They had begun to quarrel over the pedals. ‘““7 shall take both pedals,” Sutton was saying, ‘“‘and use them at my | own discretion.” “That you certainly won't!” retorted Fred Hardwicke. ‘“ D’you think I’m going to let anyone pedal for me? It would take all the spirit out of my playing!” ‘‘ 7 shall have the pedals !” repeated little Sutton, doggedly, looking straight before him. ‘‘ You must know that the pedals ought to be managed by the ws ‘“‘ Better player,” interrupted Fred, ‘‘so I shall have them.” Sutton laughed scornfully, and a grinding of feet followed, each trying to turn the other off the coveted pedal. ‘Pray Edward! Pray Mr. Hardwicke!” cried poor Mrs. Smallwood, at her wits’ end for fear the quarrelsome musicians should fall out so far as to give up the duet altogether. ‘‘ Pray settle this little matter amicably. Let the one who has ‘ pedal’ marked use it for himself, and the other the same.” Ashamed to continue their wrangling further, the matter was left in the way suggested by our hostess. Old Mr. Biddlecombe’s songs arrived in due course, and he began to practise them; adding another, and, I am bound to say, a most terrible and indefatigable one, to the howling fraternity, who ‘‘ made night (and day) hideous” at Smallwood Hall. I was beginning to think I would try to get my visit over, the practising was so distract- ing, and all companionship for walks, drives, and rides was gone. The desire to hear how our amateur friends comported themselves in public overcame this petulant resolution, however, and I stayed on at the Hall. Ella Dean grew dreadfully nervous as the 2oth approached, and when Dr. Blount assured Mrs. Smallwood that the room would be positively packed, he knew for certain, I saw poor little Ella turn as pale as death. I trembled for her success. She is but seventeen, and shy and childish for that even. The child practised more incessantly than any of them, getting up, I heard, at day-break for the purpose. She was ambitious to do well. At last—at Jast—the 2oth arrived! At breakfast that morning most of the performers looked anxious and pale. Mrs. Smallwood looked smilingly round at the assembled “ troupe” as she poured out coffee, but I think her smile covered secret misgivings. Old Biddlecombe yelled his two dreadful songs the whole morning, and then went up to his room to rest, and drink some compound he had made for his voice. Most of the performers took a holiday from practice. Fred Hardwicke was an exception, and little Ella Dean EONMIELNCKO KS. (EO) m