ces；　could　treat　his　pupils　as　he　saw　fit。　　She　became　an　extravagant　admirer　of　him　as　a　teacher；　thought　him　a　genius；　felt　confident　that　he　would　make　a　great　singer　of　her。　　With　the　second　lesson　she　began　to　progress　rapidly。　　In　a　few　weeks　she　amazed　herself。　　At　last　she　was　really　singing。　Not　in　a　great　way；　but　in　the　beginnings　of　a　great　way。　　Her　voice　had　many　times　the　power　of　her　drawing…room　days。　　Her　notes　were　full　and　round；　and　came　without　an　effort。　　Her　former　ideas　of　what　constituted　facial　and　vocal　expression　now　seemed　ridiculous　to　her。　　She　was　now　singing　without　making　those　dreadful　faces　which　she　had　once　thought　charming　and　necessary。　　Her　lower　register；　always　her　best；　was　almost　perfect。　　Her　middle　registerthe　test　part　of　a　voicewas　showing　signs　of　strength　and　steadiness　and　evenness。　　And　she　was　fast　getting　a　real　upper　register；　as　distinguished　from　the　forced　and　shrieky　high　notes　that　pass　as　an　upper　register　with　most　singers；　even　opera　singers。　　After　a　month　of　this　marvelous　forward　march；　she　sang　for　Mrs。　Brindleysang　the　same　song　she　had　essayed　at　their　first　meeting。　　When　she　finished；　Mrs。　Brindley　said：
  ‘‘Yes；　you've　done　wonders。　　I've　been　noticing　your　improvement　as　you　practiced。　　You　certainly　have　a　very　different　voice　and　method　from　those　you　had　a　month　ago；''　and　so　on　through　about　five　minutes　of　critical　and　discriminating　praise。
  Mildred　listened；　wondering　why　her　dissatisfaction；　her　irritation；　increased　as　Mrs。　Brindley　praised　on　and　on。　　Beyond　question　Cyrilla　was　sincere；　and　was　saying　even　more　than　Mildred　had　hoped　she　would　say。　　Yet　　Mildred　sat　moodily　measuring　off　octaves　on　the　keyboard　of　the　piano。　　If　she　had　been　looking　at　her　friend's　face　she　would　have　flared　out　in　anger；　for　Cyrilla　Brindley　was　taking　advantage　of　her　abstraction　to　observe　her　with　friendly　sympathy　and　sadness。　　Presently　she　concealed　this　candid　expression　and　said：
  ‘‘You　are　satisfied　with　your　progress；　aren't　you；　Miss　Stevens？''
  Mildred　flared　up　angrily。　　‘‘Certainly！''　replied　she。　　‘‘How　could　I　fail　to　be？''
  Mrs。　Brindley　did　not　answerperhaps　because　she　thought　no　answer　was　needed　or　expected。　　But　to　Mildred　her　silence　somehow　seemed　a　denial。
  ‘‘If　you　can　only　keep　what　you've　gotand　go　on；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。
  ‘‘Oh；　I　shall；　never　fear；''　retorted　Mildred。
  ‘‘But　I　do　fear；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　　‘‘I　think　it's　always　well　to　fear　until　success　is　actually　won。　　And　then　there's　the　awful　fear　of　not　being　able　to　hold　it。''
  After　a　moment's　silence　Mildred；　who　could　not　hide　away　resentment　against　one　she　liked；　said：　　‘‘Why　aren't　YOU　satisfied；　Mrs。　Brindley？''
  ‘‘But　I　am　satisfied；''　protested　Cyrilla。　　‘‘Only　it　makes　me　afraid　to　see　YOU　so　well　satisfied。　　I've　seen　that　often　in　people　first　starting；　and　it's　always　dangerous。　　You　see；　my　dear；　you've　got　a　straight…away　hundred　miles　to　walk。　　Can't　you　see　that　it　would　be　possible　for　you　to　become　too　much　elated　by　the　way　you　walked　the　first　part　of　the　first　mile？''
  ‘‘Why　do　you　try　to　discourage　me？''　said　Mildred。
  Mrs。　Brindley　colored。　　‘‘I　do　it　because　I　want　to　save　you　from　despair　a　little　later；''　said　she。　　‘‘But　that　is　foolish　of　me。　　I　shall　only　irritate　you　against　me。　　I'll　not　do　it　again。　　And　please　don't　ask　my　opinion。　　If　you　do；　I　can't　help　showing　exactly　what　I　think。''
  ‘‘Then　you　don't　think　I've　done　well？''　cried　Mildred。
  ‘‘Indeed　you　have；''　replied　Cyrilla　warmly。
  ‘‘Then　I　don't　understand。　　What　DO　you　mean？''
  ‘‘I'll　tell　you；　and　then　I'll　stop　and　you　must　not　ask　my　opinion　again。　　We　live　too　close　together　to　be　able　to　afford　to　criticize　each　other。　　What　I　meant　was　this：　　You　have　done　well　the　first　part　of　the　great　task　that's　before　you。　　If　you　had　done　it　any　less　well；　it　would　have　been　folly　for　you　to　go　on。''
  ‘‘That　is；　what　I've　done　doesn't　amount　to　anything？　　Mr。　Jennings　doesn't　agree　with　you。''
  ‘‘Doubtless　he's　right；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　　‘‘At　any　rate；　we　all　agree　that　you　have　shown　that　you　have　a　voice。''
  She　said　this　so　simply　and　heartily　that　Mildred　could　not　but　be　mollified。　　Mrs。　Brindley　changed　the　subject　to　the　song　Mildred　had　sung；　and　Mildred　stopped　puzzling　over　the　mystery　of　what　she　had　meant　by　her　apparently　enthusiastic　words；　which　had　yet　diffused　a　chill　atmosphere　of　doubt。
  She　was　doing　her　scales　so　well　that　she　became　impatient　of　such　‘‘tiresome　child's　play。''　　And　presently　Jennings　gave　her　songs；　and　did　not　discourage　her　when　she　talked　of　roles；　of　getting　seriously　at　what；　after　all；　she　intended　to　do。　　Then　there　came　a　week　of　vile　weather；　and　Mildred　caught　a　cold。　　She　neglected　it。　　Her　voice　left　her。　　Her　tonsils　swelled。　She　had　a　bad　attack　of　ulcerated　sore　throat。　　For　nearly　three　weeks　she　could　not　take　a　single　one　of　the　lessons；　which　were；　nevertheless；　paid　for。　　Jennings　rebuked　her　sharply。
  ‘‘A　singer　has　no　right　to　be　sick；''　said　he。
  ‘‘You　have　a　cold　yourself；''　retorted　she。
  ‘‘But　I　am　not　a　singer。　　I've　nothing　that　interferes　with　my　work。''
  ‘‘It's　impossible　not　to　take　cold；''　said　Mildred。　‘‘You　are　unreasonable　with　me。''
  He　shrugged　his　shoulders。　　‘‘Go　get　well；''　he　said。
  The　sore　throat　finally　yielded　to　the　treatment　of　Dr。　Hicks；　the　throat…specialist。　　His　bill　was　seventy…　five　dollars。　　But　while　the　swelling　in　the　tonsils　subsided　it　did　not　depart。　　She　could　take　lessons　again。　Some　days　she　sang　as　well　as　ever；　and　on　those　days　Jennings　was　charming。　　Other　days　she　sang　atrociously；　and　Jennings　treated　her　as　if　she　were　doing　it　deliberately。　　A　third　and　worse　state　was　that　of　the　days　when　she　in　the　same　half…hour　alternately　sang　well　and　badly。　　On　those　days　Jennings　acted　like　a　lunatic。　　He　raved　up　and　down　the　studio；　all　but　swearing　at　her。　　At　first　she　was　afraid　of　him　withered　under　his　scorn；　feared　he　would　throw　open　his　door　and　order　her　out　and　forbid　her　ever　to　enter　again。　　But　gradually　she　came　to　understand　him　not　enough　to　lose　her　fear　of　him　altogether；　but　enough　to　lose　the　fear　of　his　giving　up　so　profitable　a　pupil。
  The　truth　was　that　Jennings；　like　every　man　who　succeeds　at　anything　in　this　world；　operated　upon　a　system　to　which　he　rigidly　adhered。　　He　was　a　man　of　small　talent　and　knowledge；　but　of　great；　persistence　and　not　a　little　common　sense。　　He　had　tried　to　be　a　singer；　had　failed　because　his　voice　was　small　and　unreliable。　　He　had　adopted　teaching　singing　as　a　means　of　getting　a　living。　　He　had　learned　just　enough　about　it　to　enable　him　to　teach　the　technical　elementswhat　is　set　down　in　the　books。　　By　observing　other　and　older　teachers　he　had　got　together　a　teaching　system　that　was　as　goodand　as　badas　any；　and　this　he　dubbed　the　Jennings　Method　and　proceeded　to　exploit　as　the　only　one　worth　while。　　When　that　method　was　worked　out　and　perfected；　he　ceased　learning；　ceased　to　give　a　thought　to　the　professional　side　of　his　profession；　just　as　most　professional　men　do。　　He　would　have　resented　a　suggestion　or　a　new　idea　as　an　attack　upon　the　Jennings　Method。　　The　overwhelming　majority　of　the　human　raceindeed；　all　but　a　small　handfulhave　this　passion　for　stagnation；　this　ferocity　against　change。　It　is　in　large　part　due　to　laziness；　for　a　new　idea　means　work　in　learning　it　and　in　unlearning　the　old　ideas　that　have　been　true　until　the　unwelcome　advent　of　the　new。　　In　part　also　this　resistance　to　the　new　idea　arises　from　a　fear　that　the　new　idea；　if　tolerated；　will　put　one　out　of　business；　will　set　him　adrift　without　any　means　of　support。　　The　coachman　hates　the　automobile；　the　hand…worker　hates　the　machine；　the　orthodox　preacher　hates　the　heretic；　the　politician　hates　the　reformer；　the　doctor　hates　the　bacteriologist　and　the　chemist；　the　old　woman　hates　the　newall　these　in　varying　proportions　according　to　the　degree　in　which　the　iconoclast　attacks　laziness　or　livelihood。　　Finally　we　all　hate　any　and　all　new　ideas　because　they　seem　to　imply　that　we；　who　have　held　the　old　ideas；　have　been　ignorant　and　stupid　in　so　doing。　　A　new　idea　is　an　attack　upon　the　vanity　of　everyone　who　has　been　a　partisan　of　the　old　ideas　and　their　established　order。
  Jennings；　thoroughly　human　in　thus　closing　his　mind　to　all　ideas　about　his　profession；　was　equally　human　in　that　he　had　his　mind　and　his　senses　opened　full　width　to　ideas　on　how　to　make　more　money。　　If　there　had　been　money　in　new　ideas　about　teaching　singing　Jennings　would　not　have　closed　to　them。　　But　the　money　was　all　in　studying　and　learning　how　better　to　handle　the　womenthey　were　all　women　who　came　to　him　for　instruction。　　His　common　sense　warned　him　at　the　outset　that　the　obviously　easygoing　teacher　would　not　long　retain　his　pupils。　　On　the　other　hand；　he　saw　that　the　really　severe　teacher　would　not　retain　his　pupils；　either。
  Who　were　these　pupils？　　In　the　first　place；　they　were　all　ignorant；　for　people　who　already　know　do　not　go　to　school　to　learn。　　They　had　the　universal　delusion　that　a　teacher　can　teach。　　The　fact　is　that　a　teacher　is　a　well。　　Some　wells　are　full；　others　almost　dry。　　Some　are　so　arranged　that　water　cannot　be　got　from　them；　o