tisfaction at faultless musical structure, without
having to surrender your soul unconditionally to the passionate appeal
of a Beethoven, or to split your musical brains in conjectures about
what Volkanikoffsky is driving at. You will find at the end that you
have passed an hour or so of tranquil enjoyment, and are mighty
content with yourself, the performers, and every one else.

But if you only hear the two parts, played alone, and your mental
image of all the other parts is not strong enough to prevent your
hearing the two performers count the bars while the non-performers
don't do anything at all, you will probably go away and come back
presently, or go mad.

Nobody else was there when Sally and Laetitia Wilson were counting
four, and beginning too soon, and having to go back and begin all over
again, and missing a bar, and knocking down their music-stands when
they had to turn over quick. So nobody went mad. Mamma had gone to an
anti-vaccination meeting, and Athene had gone to stay over Bank
Holiday at Leighton Buzzard, and the boys had gone to skate, and papa
was in his study and didn't matter, and they had the drawing-room to
themselves. Oh dear, how very often they did count four, to be sure!

Sally was _distraite_, and wasn't paying proper attention to the music.
Whenever a string had to be tightened by either, Sally introduced
foreign matter. Laetitia was firm and stern (she was twenty-four, if
you please!), and wouldn't respond. As thus, in a tightening-up pause:

"I like him awfully, you know, Tishy. In fact, I love him. It's a
pleasure to hear him come into the house. Only--one's _mother_, you
know! It's the _oddity_ of it!"

"Yes, dear. _Now_, are you ready?... It only clickets down because you
will _not_ screw in; it's no use turning and leaving the key
sloppy...."

"I know, Tishy dear--teach your granny! There, I think that's right
now. But it _is_ funny when it's one's mother, isn't it?"

"One--two--three--four! There--you didn't begin! Remember, you've got
to begin on the demisemiquaver at the end of the bar--only not too
staccato, remember--and allow for the pause. Now--one, two, three,
four, and you begin--in the _middle_ of four--_not_ the end. Oh dear!
Now once more...." etc.

You will at once see from this that Sally had lost no time in finding
a confidante for the fossil's communication.

An hour and a half of resolute practising makes you not at all sorry
for an oasis in the counting,