reasons for Mrs.
Brindley's restraint. "She means well," she said to herself, "but
she's probably just a tiny bit jealous. She's not so young as she once
was, and she hasn't the faintest hope of ever being anything more than
a piano-teacher."

Mrs. Brindley showed that she had more than an inkling of Mildred's
frame of mind by going on to say in a gentle, candid way: "I want to
help you. So I shall be careful not to encourage you to believe too
much in what you have. That would prevent you from getting what you
need. You must remember, you are no longer a drawing-room singer, but
a candidate for the profession. That's a very different thing."

Mildred saw that she was mistaken, that Mrs. Brindley was honest and
frank and had doubtless told her the exact truth. But her vanity
remained sore. Never before had anyone said any less of her singing
than that it was wonderful, marvelous, equal to a great deal that
passed for fine in grand opera. She had known that this was
exaggeration, but she had not known how grossly exaggerated. Thus,
this her first experience of the professional attitude was galling.
Only her unusual good sense saved her from being angry with Mrs.
Brindley. And it was that same good sense that moved her presently to
try to laugh at herself. With a brave attempt to smile gayly she said:

"You don't realize how you've taken me down. I had no idea I was so
conceited about my singing. I can't truthfully say I like your
frankness, but there's a part of me that's grateful to you for it, and
when I get over feeling hurt, I'll be grateful through and through."

Mrs. Brindley's face lighted up beautifully. "You'll DO!" she cried.
"I'm sure you'll do. I've been waiting and watching to see how you
would take my criticism. That's the test--how they take criticism. If
they don't take it at all, they'll not go very far, no matter how
talented they are. If they take it as you've taken it, there's
hope--great hope. Now, I'm not afraid to tell you that you sang
splendidly for an amateur--that you surprised me."

"Don't spoil it all," said Mildred. "You were right; I can't sing."

"Not for grand opera, not for comic opera even," replied Mrs. Brindley.
"But you will sing, and sing well, in one or the other, if you work."

"You really mean that?" said Mildred.

"If you work intelligently and persistently," said Mrs. Brindley.
"That's a big if--as you'll discover in a year or so."

"You'll see,"