self had dawned
in exhilaration and excitement. And early on the day before the opening
day John Merazzi, the renowned conductor, and Herbert Millwain, the
renowned leader of the orchestra, and the renowned orchestra itself, all
arrived from London. And finally sundry musical critics arrived from
the offices of sundry London dailies. The presence of these latter
convinced an awed population that its Festival was a real Festival, and
not a local make-believe. And it also tranquillized in some degree the
exasperating and disconcerting effect of a telegram from the capricious
Countess of Chell (who had taken six balcony seats and was the official
advertised high patroness of the Festival) announcing at the last moment
that she could not attend.

III

Mrs Swann's justification for considering (as she in fact did consider)
that her son was either the base or the apex of the splendid pyramid of
the Festival lay in the following facts:--

From earliest infancy Gilbert had been a musical prodigy, and the circle
of his fame had constantly been extending. He could play the piano with
his hands before his legs were long enough for him to play it with his
feet. That is to say, before he could use the pedals. A spectacle
formerly familiar to the delighted friends of the Swanns was Gilbert, in
a pinafore and curls, seated on a high chair topped with a large Bible
and a bound volume of the _Graphic_, playing "Home Sweet Home" with
Thalberg's variations, while his mother, standing by his side on her
right foot, put the loud pedal on or off with her left foot according to
the infant's whispered orders. He had been allowed to play from
ear--playing from ear being deemed especially marvellous--until some
expert told Mrs Swann that playing solely from ear was a practice to be
avoided if she wished her son to fulfil the promise of his babyhood.
Then he had lessons at Knype, until he began to teach his teacher. Then
he said he would learn the fiddle, and he did learn the fiddle; also
the viola. He did not pretend to play the flute, though he could. And at
school the other boys would bring him their penny or even sixpenny
whistles so that he might show them of what wonderful feats a common tin
whistle is capable.

Mr Swann was secretary for the Toft End Brickworks and Colliery Company
(Limited). Mr Swann had passed the whole of his career in the offices of
the prosperous Toft End Company, and his imagination did not move freely
beyon