It seemed reasonable enough to Dorothy.
Mrs. Loamford looked rather determined.
“Is this customary?” she inquired. “I thought that artists were paid for giving recitals!”
Why, Dorothy wondered sorrowfully, did her mother insist on being so naive?
“Established artists who draw at the box-office are. I have never heard of a début recital on any other basis except the one I outlined for you.”
“That’s—that’s what I had heard,” said Mrs. Loamford, and wondered why Maxwell suppressed a grin.
“You are in a position to go through with this program?” he asked.
“We are,” she answered. “Of course you will arrange concerts for my daughter which will bring her a fee.”
“That depends entirely on the success of the début recital. If her notices are good, we shall consider the matter. You realize, of course, that the concert field is overcrowded. But there is always room for able young singers who can build up a following. I have in mind a young soprano who came to us about three years ago. To be frank, I was not greatly impressed by this young woman. She pleaded so hard, however, for an opportunity to appear under our auspices that we arranged a recital for her. Much to my surprise, the critics hailed her as the greatest find of the year, and requests for appearances came from all parts of the country. Today we can book her for fifty or sixty concerts annually at a very nice fee. Of course, that was an exceptional case.
“Mind you, I don’t mean to imply that Miss Loamford will not be able to do the same thing. I merely wish to acquaint you with the facts, so that you will give the recital with your eyes open.”
The telephone bell jangled. Maxwell answered in a
[110]
