Flo played her pipe, and the boys all followed.
It had little to do with her pipe-playing skills, she knew. Flo was an attractive woman, and though she was the best piper in the country, she was ultimately undercut by her attractiveness. She was popular, certainly. But she knew it was her looks, not her playing.
Nevertheless, she played. When she wasn’t depressed about the reasons for popularity, she took it as a means of getting more people interested in pipe music. The audiences were certainly large, and at least some of the music must be getting in their ears.
As she stood up on the stage, in a tastefully revealing dress, the orchestra swelling behind her, she considered once more giving it up, or spitting in the face of the attention. It would serve them right, she thought, if I don’t wear makeup, come out in just sweat pants and a shapeless sweater, and play.
The thought was sticking, more than previously. Maybe after intermission…