"

"Nevertheless, I think I shall keep on with the experiment," Thayer said
stubbornly.

"Good luck go with you! But it won't. You can't make the next man's
reputation; he must do it for himself. All art is bound to be a bit
selfish; but music is the worst of the lot. I don't mean composing, of
course, but the interpreting end of it. It's such beastly personal
work; all the nooks and corners of your individuality show up across the
footlights. They are commented upon, and they have to pass muster.
Artistically, you and Arlt are as alike as two peas; personally, you are
positive, he is negative.'"

There was a pause. Then Thayer said quietly,--"I think I shall sing the
Damrosch _Danny Deever_. It has a stunning accompaniment."

The committee of the Fresh Air Fund concert showed themselves a potent
trio, and their concert became recognized as the official finale of the
musical season. Their meetings had been fraught with interest, for time,
place and programme all came under detailed discussion. It must be at a
time neither too soon after Easter to collide with it, nor too late to
have a place in the season's gayety. The place must be lofty enough to
lure the world of fashion; yet not so lofty as to deter the simpler folk
to whom the white and gold of the Waldorf ballroom was a mere name, as
remote from their lives as the _Petit Trianon_. The programme must be
classic enough to satisfy the critic; yet tuneful enough not to bore the
amateur, and accordingly it roamed from Brahms to Molloy, and included
that first Slavonic Dance of Dvorak which sets the pulses of Pagan and
Philistine alike to tingling with a barbarous joy in the mere
consciousness of living. Thayer alone had refused to accept dictation at
the hands of the committee.

"If I consent to sing, I must choose my own songs," he had said quietly
to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, when she had suggested a modern French love song
in place of the Haendel aria he had selected.

"Oh, but it is so late in the season, and everybody is tired," she had
urged gayly. "If we give them too heavy things on a warm night, they may
go to sleep."

"Then I shall proceed to wake them up," he replied. "And, for the second
number, the _Danny Deever_, I think."

"Mr. Thayer! That grewsome thing! Why don't you sing _My Desire_, if you
are so anxious for an American song?"

"I think _Danny_ will be better. Then we will consider it settled." And
it was not until she was out on the stairs tha