Schuster, who began to wonder what function he had at this love feast.
“I always said you’d be the first one of us to make good,” continued Rose. “It’s simply wonderful to think that you’re going to make your début! You must come and have tea with me real soon, Dot.”
Dorothy remembered that a concert artist was a busy woman.
“T’ll look up my engagements,” she replied with no little dignity. “And when will we hear from you?”
“From me?”
Rose laughed and toddled about in a small circle.
“T haven’t sung a note since I graduated. Maybe you'll hear from me in the Follies. But really, my folks simply won’t let me go on the stage. Isn’t that a crime?”
Mr. Schuster nudged Rose.
“Won't be any tables left,” he muttered.
“Oh, you must excuse me!” exclaimed Rose, kissing Dorothy again. “I’m so sorry I kept you. Please ring me up real soon. We'll see you at the recital, anyhow? It was gorgeous to see you again. Goo’-bye, Dottie dear!”
Mr. Schuster slapped his hat by way of valedictory and continued down the street with Rose.
A short forecast of musical events in an evening paper also helped to show Dorothy where she belonged.
“An unusually busy week,” it ran, “includes recitals by Josef Hofmann, Elly Ney, Bachaus, Fritz Kreisler, Efrem Zimbalist and Erika Morini, along with a good half-dozen débutantes. John McCormack will give the first of six recitals at the Hippodrome, and other vocalists to be heard include Emilio de Gogorza, Anna Case, and several newcomers, including Dorothy Reitz, who, by the way, is a niece of the celebrated hat impresario.”
The reference to Uncle Elliott, thought Dorothy, was
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