that had seized her when her mother and a woman here
and there had taken for granted one should "play when asked," and coldly
treated her refusal as showing lack of courtesy. "Ah!" she said aloud,
as this realisation came, "Women."

"Of course you can only 'play when you _can,_'" said she to herself,
"like a bird singing."

She sang once or twice, very quietly, in those early weeks. But she gave
that up. She had a whole sheaf of songs with her. But after that first
Vorspielen they seemed to have lost their meaning. One by one she looked
them through. Her dear old Venetian song, "Beauty's Eyes," "An Old
Garden"--she hesitated over that, and hummed it through--"Best of
All"--"In Old Madrid"--the vocal score of the "Mikado"--her little
"Chanson de Florian," and a score of others. She blushed at her
collection. The "Chanson de Florian" might perhaps hold its own at a
Vorspielen--sung by Bertha Martin--perhaps.... The remainder of her
songs, excepting a little bound volume of Sterndale Bennett, she put
away at the bottom of her Saratoga trunk. Meanwhile, there were songs
being learned by Herr Bossenberger's pupils for which she listened
hungrily; Schubert, Grieg, Brahms. She would always, during those early
weeks, sacrifice her practising to listen from the schoolroom to a pupil
singing in the saal.

18

The morning of Ulrica Hesse's arrival was one of the mornings when she
could "play." She was sitting, happy, in the large English bedroom,
listening. It was late. She was beginning to wonder why the gonging did
not come when the door opened. It was Millie in her dressing-gown, with
her hair loose and a towel over her arm.

"Oh, bitte, Miss Henderson, will you please go down to Frau Krause,
Fraulein Pfaff says," she said, her baby face full of responsibility.

Miriam rose uneasily. What might this be? "Frau Krause?" she asked.

"Oh yes, it's Haarwaschen," said Millie anxiously, evidently determined
to wait until Miriam recognised her duty.

"Where?" said Miriam aghast.

"Oh, in the basement. I _must_ go. Frau Krause's waiting. Will you
come?"

"Oh well, I suppose so," mumbled Miriam, coming to the door as the child
turned to go.

"All right," said Millie, "I'm going down. Do make haste, Miss
Henderson, will you?"

"All right," said Miriam, going back into the room.

Collecting her music she went incredulously upstairs. This was school
with a vengeance. This was boarding-school. It was abominable. Fraule