Henrietta Sees It Through Read Online Free PDF Page A

were tears in his eyes.
    When I arrived at the hall, the orchestra was already assembled, making all the peculiar noises an orchestra does make when preparing to play.
    â€˜Late, Triangle!’ said the Conductor, looking up from the score he was studying.
    â€˜I’m
not
late,’ I said indignantly, for I had run all the way from our house in order to avoid this contingency. ‘It’s half a minute to eleven.
    â€˜Your seat is at the back,’ said the Conductor more kindly, ‘next to the Double Bass. You don’t come in at all in the first movement.’
    Good. That would give me a whole movement, untrammelled by Pings, in which to study the Ork at work. I threaded my way with difficulty between the musicstands, and took my seat.
    â€˜Now,’ said the Conductor, standing up, ‘this is a lovely little work. It starts
presto forte-fortissimo
, and if it isn’t played with gusto it isn’t worth playing at all, so go to it for all you’re worth. I shall count two in the bar. One, two—’
    There was a crash of sound. The Ork had gone to it. Bow-arms were moving up and down like piston-rods, eyes were shining and hats askew. Could this really besight-reading? The Ork was a marvel! The Double Bass beside me zoomed like thunder, and swaying to and fro, poked me in the cheek with its bow.
    â€˜Ow!’ I said.
    â€˜I’m terribly sorry, Henrietta,’ said the Double Bass.
    The Conductor tapped his stand. ‘What is all this disturbance at the back?’ he said.

    Poked me in the cheek
    The Double Bass explained. ‘Is it bleeding?’ said the Conductor coldly.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Then don’t make a fuss.’
    â€˜It might have been my eye,’ I said reproachfully, and moved my chair, knocking over two cello cases as I did so.
    The Conductor gave me a look and raised his hands. Off they went again
presto forte-fortissimo
, and then suddenly the music changed, and the first and second violins began a sad little tune in the minor key.
    The Conductor tapped his stand. ‘It has changed to the minor,’ he said, looking at little Mrs Simpkins reproachfully.
    â€˜Yes, I do,’ said little Mrs Simpkins, whose deafness has become a good deal worse lately. ‘Very pretty indeed,’ and she nodded and smiled.
    The Conductor looked at her and sighed, and then they started again. Little Mrs Simpkins still played in the majorkey, and the Conductor stopped the Ork and went and shouted in her ear.
    â€˜Minor?’ said little Mrs Simpkins. ‘Just fancy!’
    â€˜We will now go back to letter L,’ said the Conductor in a shaking voice, and they started. But whatever dear little Mrs Simpkins was playing - and she played with concentration and determination - it wasn’t letter L.
    â€˜L!’ shrieked the Conductor in a high voice. ‘L!’
    â€˜I heard you,’ said little Mrs Simpkins with dignity. ‘M - M for Mummy.’
    Her neighbour pointed out the place with her bow, and they started again. This time they got through to the end, and except for one little disturbance when the piece of velvet ribbon which Mrs Whinebite fastens round her neck with a press-stud came unpopped, and she knocked over three music stands retrieving it, all went smoothly.
    At the end, the Conductor mopped his face with his handkerchief. He looked rather white. ‘We will now try the second movement,’ he said, and I raised my triangle on high in readiness.
    In triangle playing, if you have only three Pings in a whole movement, and each Ping is separated from the next by at least eighty bars, and you aren’t very good at reading music anyway, it is extremely difficult to Come In at the Right Time. The Conductor was sitting with his head in his hands, apparently weeping, by the time we had gone through the movement twice. After that I threw my music on the floor and trusted to Womanly Intuition and Memory. After the