rm, or sat
beside a cheap piano, pounded by a colored youth who kept a glass of
beer on one end and a cigarette upon the other as he played. What
would Anna think of her old father if she heard him tootle on his
flute, with all the breath which he could muster, the strains of "Hot
Time," an old favorite, or "Waltz Me Around Again, Willie," not quite
so old, but infinitely more offensive than the frank racket of the
negro melody to his sensitive ear? How would her artistic soul revolt
if she should hear his flute--his precious flute!--inquiring if
anybody there had seen an Irishman named Kelly?

"What do they like best, my father?" Anna asked him, still looking
searchingly into his face, as if she saw signs there which did not
reassure her. "Mozart, possibly, or Grieg?"

"I think it is 'An Invitation to the Dance,'" said he, and smiled
again, more sweetly, more convincingly than ever. "'Around, around,
around!'" he muttered, bitterly, sarcastically, as he turned away from
her.

"What, father?"

"That melody, so sweet; those words, so full of lovely sentiment--they
cling in my old mind, my liebschen," said Herr Kreutzer, to cover up
his error. "They what you call it? Keep running in my head--ah,
around, around within my head, my liebschen."

"Somehow, I am af-raid that you do not, really, like the place where
you are playing."

"It is a fine, a splendid park, my Anna," Kreutzer cried in haste. "I
am a grumbler--an old grumbler. My only real cause for complaint is
that I must play so very loud for some" (his heart was sore with a
humiliation of the night before), "while, for others, it is necessary
that I plays so s-o-f-t-l-y--lest my flute disturb their
conversation. I am puzzled, Anna, that is all. Quite all. There is no
cause for you to worry." He placed his hand upon her shoulder, and, as
he sank wearily to the stiff, wooden chair which was as easy as the
room could boast, she dropped to her knees beside him.

Her heart was very full. Vividly she longed to tell him that the love,
of which he had discoursed to her, had not come in the least as he had
said it would--summoned by his counsel after he had searched and found
the man whom he decided would be best for her to marry. No; love had
not approached her logically, rationally, as result of careful thought
by a third party; it had come, instead, as might a burglar, breaking
in; an enemy, making an assault upon an unsuspecting city in the
night. She had yielde