"Little Lottie was a young girl, about your age." Uncle Joseph nodded
towards me. "She looked a great deal like you, too. A small thing, with
heaps of golden hair, some in curls, some not. Lottie had eyes as blue as
the Mediterranean, and they twinkled like stars. She was fair, with rosy
cheeks."
At that, he pinched my own. I smiled. "Come to think of it, she had a dimple right there," pointing to my face. "Lottie loved to sing and dance. She could dance as gay as a butterfly, and sing as sweetly as a nightingale. But-" He broke off.
I leaned forward, curious. "What?"
Glancing at Christine, Uncle Joe started in a singsong voice, "Little Lottie let her mind wander."
Christine joined in. "Little Lottie thought am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, of shoes, or of riddles, of frocks. Or of chocolates, of sweets, or of summer, or spring. No, what I love best, Lottie said, is when I am asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head." ~ Christine broke off as her father continued in a normal voice, "You see, Little Lottie was very spoiled. Her dear mamma had died several years before, leaving a young papa to take care of Lottie.
Being very rich, Lottie was given everything a little girl could ever want. Because of this, her head was filled with silly, nonsense thoughts; never sorrow, which can be good, but also never sense, which is not. It was said she thought of everything, and yet she thought of nothing.
Her papa sent her to school, but she fussed over her figures until her papa was obliged to keep her at home and teach her himself. This he did, and Lottie was much more agreeable to her father than any of her teachers.
Still, Lottie paid little attention to the important knowledge one must learn, and instead lived in her fairy dream world. Her papa thought that perhaps she would learn common sense as she got older, so while she was young, he simply let it be.
However, she did not grow out of it, even when she became a big girl of twelve. Fearing he neglected her, Lottie's papa, anxious to prove his love, indulged her fantasies."
Here I broke in. "That wasn't very sensible of him," I remarked, thinking of all the times Mamma had interfered with my daydreaming and fancies and how maybe I was better for it, after all.
"No," Uncle Joe gravely agreed. "It was quite insensible of him. To make matters worse, every evening after supper he took Lottie into his study and told her stories, filling her head with more notions."
At this, Christine and I exchanged glances and giggled. "Her favorite tale was of the Angel of Music, the story of a beautiful angel sent to earth to who taught children how to sing.
Only those with a gift, a most wonderful voice was chosen for instruction. The Angel himself had a voice of gold velvet. It was the most extraordinary voice ever heard which could whisper enticingly or boom fearfully as Gabriel's trumpet.
He could speak as warm as silk or as cold as ice, and his voice could be used as anything or come from anywhere."
"Like a ventriloquist," Christine interrupted.
"Just like a ventriloquist," her papa concurred. "He would start out singing to the child in her dreams. Then when they fully believed in him and proved trustful, he would teach them, when they were awake, of course. However, they would only hear his voice, never see him.
"Now, the Angel of Music seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world to Little Lottie. She often daydreamed about the angel. As Lottie sang, she imagined the angel listening.
Because of this, she sang with all of her heart, in case he happened to hear. When a person sings with their heart, it makes the sound a hundred times more beautiful and pure. One day when she was singing, the Angel of Music heard her.
That night, Little Lottie heard the angel in her dreams. She couldn't believe her luck. Not only was the Angel of Music real, but also he had chosen her, to tutor and sing to her. Because of the lessons, Lottie's voice became unlike any other.
"As she got older and her voice improved under the training of her angel, she began singing in the opera. When she got lead roles, people would come from everywhere to hear her voice.
At that, he pinched my own. I smiled. "Come to think of it, she had a dimple right there," pointing to my face. "Lottie loved to sing and dance. She could dance as gay as a butterfly, and sing as sweetly as a nightingale. But-" He broke off.
I leaned forward, curious. "What?"
Glancing at Christine, Uncle Joe started in a singsong voice, "Little Lottie let her mind wander."
Christine joined in. "Little Lottie thought am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, of shoes, or of riddles, of frocks. Or of chocolates, of sweets, or of summer, or spring. No, what I love best, Lottie said, is when I am asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head." ~ Christine broke off as her father continued in a normal voice, "You see, Little Lottie was very spoiled. Her dear mamma had died several years before, leaving a young papa to take care of Lottie.
Being very rich, Lottie was given everything a little girl could ever want. Because of this, her head was filled with silly, nonsense thoughts; never sorrow, which can be good, but also never sense, which is not. It was said she thought of everything, and yet she thought of nothing.
Her papa sent her to school, but she fussed over her figures until her papa was obliged to keep her at home and teach her himself. This he did, and Lottie was much more agreeable to her father than any of her teachers.
Still, Lottie paid little attention to the important knowledge one must learn, and instead lived in her fairy dream world. Her papa thought that perhaps she would learn common sense as she got older, so while she was young, he simply let it be.
However, she did not grow out of it, even when she became a big girl of twelve. Fearing he neglected her, Lottie's papa, anxious to prove his love, indulged her fantasies."
Here I broke in. "That wasn't very sensible of him," I remarked, thinking of all the times Mamma had interfered with my daydreaming and fancies and how maybe I was better for it, after all.
"No," Uncle Joe gravely agreed. "It was quite insensible of him. To make matters worse, every evening after supper he took Lottie into his study and told her stories, filling her head with more notions."
At this, Christine and I exchanged glances and giggled. "Her favorite tale was of the Angel of Music, the story of a beautiful angel sent to earth to who taught children how to sing.
Only those with a gift, a most wonderful voice was chosen for instruction. The Angel himself had a voice of gold velvet. It was the most extraordinary voice ever heard which could whisper enticingly or boom fearfully as Gabriel's trumpet.
He could speak as warm as silk or as cold as ice, and his voice could be used as anything or come from anywhere."
"Like a ventriloquist," Christine interrupted.
"Just like a ventriloquist," her papa concurred. "He would start out singing to the child in her dreams. Then when they fully believed in him and proved trustful, he would teach them, when they were awake, of course. However, they would only hear his voice, never see him.
"Now, the Angel of Music seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world to Little Lottie. She often daydreamed about the angel. As Lottie sang, she imagined the angel listening.
Because of this, she sang with all of her heart, in case he happened to hear. When a person sings with their heart, it makes the sound a hundred times more beautiful and pure. One day when she was singing, the Angel of Music heard her.
That night, Little Lottie heard the angel in her dreams. She couldn't believe her luck. Not only was the Angel of Music real, but also he had chosen her, to tutor and sing to her. Because of the lessons, Lottie's voice became unlike any other.
"As she got older and her voice improved under the training of her angel, she began singing in the opera. When she got lead roles, people would come from everywhere to hear her voice.