'I think she will prove an asset,' said Undershaft.

'Yes, if we ever do that opera with the elephants.'

'But the range... what a range she's got...'

'Quite. I saw you staring.'

'I meant her voice, Salzella. She will add body to the chorus.'

'She is a chorus. We could sack everyone else. Ye gods, she can even sing in harmony with herself. But can you see her in a major role?'

'Good grief, no. We'd be a laughing‑stock.'

'Quite so. She seems quite... amenable, though.'

'Wonderful personality, I thought. And good hair, of course.'

She'd never expected it to be this easy...

Agnes listened in a kind of trance while people talked at her about wages (very little), the need for training (a lot), and accommodation (members of the chorus lived in the Opera House itself, up near the roof).

And then, more or less, she was forgotten about. She stood and watched at the side of the stage while a group of ballet hopefuls were put through their delicate paces.

'You do have an amazing voice,' said someone behind her.

She turned. As Nanny Ogg had once remarked, it was an education seeing Agnes turn around. She was light enough on her feet but the inertia of outlying parts meant that bits of Agnes were still trying to work out which way to face for some time afterwards.

The girl who had spoken to her was slightly built, even by ordinary standards, and had gone to some pains to make herself look even thinner. She had long blond hair and the happy smile of someone who is aware that she is thin and has long blond hair.

'My name's Christine!' she said. 'Isn't this exciting?!'

And she had the type of voice that can exclaim a question. It seemed to have an excited little squeak permanently screwed to it.

'Er, yes,' said Agnes.

'I've been waiting for this day for years!'