Don't you want to come over to London for the season? You never
make any money at home from June to October, and if by chance
you have a penny in the bank (I don't know why I say "if" when
none of us ever had such a thing!) I think I can put enough in
your way to pay part of your expenses. I am really beginning to
get on!--three engagements in the provincial towns all arranged.
My accompanist plays lots better than you do, but I don't sing
half so well with him as I used to with you. You somehow infuse
the spirit into me that I lack. I incline to be lumpy and heavy.
They may not notice it in the provinces, for I dare say they are
lumpy and heavy there, too. However, though I shall have to have
somebody well known over here for concerts of any great
pretensions, I could work you into smaller ones, and coach with
you, too, since I must have somebody. And you are so
good-looking, Tommy dear, and have such a winning profile! I am
plainer than ever, but no plainer than Madame Titiens, so the
papers say. I never saw or heard her, of course, but the critics
say I have the same large, "massive" style of voice and person.
My present accompanist would take first prize for ugliness in
any competition; he is more like a syndicate of plainness than
one single exemplification of it! I must have a noble nature to
think more of my audiences than of myself, but I should like to
give them something to please their eyes--I flatter myself I can
take care of their ears!
Oh, do come, Tommy! Say you will!