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There was a lady next door but one who was very pluckily training a contralto voice that most people would have gladly thrown away. At the end of Restharrow Street was a garage, and a yard where chauffeurs were accustomed to "tune up" their engines.
The deep contralto music of her voice contrasted oddly with her matter-of-fact manner and words. "It's just that Peter and I are made of common clay, and that you are not. So, of course, we understand each other. I don't mean to say that we don't quarrel pretty often. I dare say we always shall.
Gordon would sit and watch for that one face whose light was hope until it became the only reality in a universe of silence and darkness. His whole life seemed to focus now on the little face with its dimpled chin and shy, tremulous lips smiling into his cell. The soft contralto voice, even when it sank to the lowest notes of melancholy, was full of tenderness and caressing feeling.
Greece would have legislated for his soul. They went into the drawing-room. Her father asked her to sing and Arthur opened the piano for her and lit the candles. She chose some ballads and a song of Herrick's, playing her own accompaniment while Arthur turned the leaves. She had a good voice, a low contralto. The room was high and dimly lighted. It looked larger than it really was.
It was better even than the hymn-singing. But it annoyed Ann Veronica. "Idiots!" she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. "Intolerable idiots!..." It took some days for this phase to pass, and it left some scars and something like a decision. "Violence won't do it," said Ann Veronica.
Aunt Bettie and Edith both had good soprano voices and Ruth a fair contralto. Bob sang tenor and his uncle bass. It was Maria, though, that surprised them with a remarkable good mezzo-soprano. They were all too happy to sleep, so they sang song after song until the clock struck eleven. Then they sang "The Happy Farmer" song again and went to bed. It had been a great day for Brookside Farm.
A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them, and a dim, majestic figure appeared under the Japanese lantern. "Helen?" The girl turned quickly. "Yes, mamma." "May I ask you to return to the club-house for supper with me? Your father has been very much worried about you. We have all been looking for you." "Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless." "How do you do?"
"Toujours fidele," she would moan in a deep contralto voice, as she drew her needle slowly in and out; "toujours fidele." She paused lingeringly on the second syllable of toujours and on the middle syllable of fidele, and repeated the phrase over and over again at short intervals that was all of the song that she knew.
The daughter of a small town Congregational minister of the best New England stock, she had always been healthy in body and mind. She possessed an unusual contralto voice, and came to Buffalo at twenty-two for special training. Helpful letters of introduction, with her pleasing self and good voice, rapidly secured her friends and a position in a fashionable church-choir.
Mike's fingers, groping behind him, touched the door handle. But before he could grasp it, it turned, and the door opened behind him. It hit him full in the back, and he stumbled forward a couple of steps before regaining his balance. A clear contralto voice said: "Oh! I'm so sorry!" It was the same voice as the robot's! Mike the Angel swung around to face the second robot.
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