“Sing ‘Kiss Me Again,’ Dorothy,” urged Mrs. Loamford. She placed the music on the rack.
“Now!”
Tommy ploughed through the introduction with several blunders, although the music was no stranger to him, but redeemed himself with a fine gesture as he came to the chords preceding the opening notes for the voice. Dorothy took up the slightly passionate lyric respectably. Her lower tones were shaky, but in the middle register she produced her voice smoothly and sweetly, although the cruelly deep notes at the beginning of the chorus were inaudible. The final high note, taken desperately, and with full voice, resulted in a breathless shriek, harsh and at least half a tone sharp. Tommy tactfully pounded several heavy chords on the piano and almost drowned out Dorothy’s violent efforts. Mrs. Loamford stood by and began to clap her hands encouragingly before the sounds of the piano had died out.
As Tommy, much relieved at the cessation of hostilities, rose from the piano stool, Mr. Loamford looked into the room.
“What seems to be the trouble?” he inquired mildly.
A little gasp of dismay from Dorothy and Mrs. Loamford.
“Why, Samuel,” said Mrs, Loamford, “Mr. Borge has been kind enough to play for Dorothy.”
“Beg your pardon,” commented her husband. “You'll excuse me, Mr. Borge, if I resume some work I’ve brought home with me—very important—sorry——”
“My husband was only joking, Mr. Borge,” explained Mrs. Loamford. “He couldn’t have heard anything in the next room,”
Tommy reflected that he couldn’t have helped hearing
[30]
