The eventful night came. Lavinia was full of enthusiasm but horribly
nervous. She felt she was competing with the two greatest composers of
music in the world. What if the audience hissed her? Audiences, as she
well knew, were not slow to express their likes and dislikes--and
especially their dislikes--in the most unmistakeable fashion.
The difficulty of her dress had been overcome. Palmer was shrewd. He had
an eye for contrast. He would have no finery and fallals, he said.
"Your songs are simple, so must your gown be. If the people take to you
in the one they will in t'other."
So Lavinia made her appearance in a plain dress, apron, mob cap, and of
course prodigious hoops. Her hair was arrayed neatly and not powdered.
There was powder enough and to spare on the wigs of the beaux in front,
and on the elaborate head-dresses of the belles.
Lavinia's unadorned dress suited her natural and easy carriage and made
her doubly attractive. Not a hand was raised when she bowed, but she
could see that every eye was turned upon her with expectancy and
curiosity. But there was also a certain amount of indifference which
provoked her. It could hardly be supposed that anything out of fashion
would be of interest to such modish folk.
Lavinia chose her favourite--"My lodging it is on the cold ground."
There were not a few aged bucks, painted and powdered and patched, aping
the airs and graces of younger gallants, who could remember Charles II.
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