e had seen, "a very neat affair with a carved owl on a bracket, holding
three hat-brushes in its claws." How she had smiled at that! So like
a man to think one needed three hat-brushes! "From the Listening Ear,"
sang the voices.

"Once again," said Miss Meadows. "But this time in parts. Still without
expression." "Fast! Ah, too Fast." With the gloom of the contraltos
added, one could scarcely help shuddering. "Fade the Roses of Pleasure."
Last time he had come to see her, Basil had worn a rose in his
buttonhole. How handsome he had looked in that bright blue suit, with
that dark red rose! And he knew it, too. He couldn't help knowing it.
First he stroked his hair, then his moustache; his teeth gleamed when he
smiled.

"The headmaster's wife keeps on asking me to dinner. It's a perfect
nuisance. I never get an evening to myself in that place."

"But can't you refuse?"

"Oh, well, it doesn't do for a man in my position to be unpopular."

"Music's Gay Measure," wailed the voices. The willow trees, outside
the high, narrow windows, waved in the wind. They had lost half their
leaves. The tiny ones that clung wriggled like fishes caught on a
line. "... I am not a marrying man... " The voices were silent; the piano
waited.

"Quite good," said Miss Meadows, but still in such a strange, stony tone
that the younger girls began to feel positively frightened. "But now
that we know it, we shall take it with expression. As much expression as
you can put into it. Think of the words, girls. Use your imaginations.
'Fast! Ah, too Fast,'" cried Miss Meadows. "That ought to break out--a
loud, strong forte--a lament. And then in the second line, 'Winter
Drear,' make that 'Drear' sound as if a cold wind were blowing through
it. 'Dre-ear!'" said she so awfully that Mary Beazley, on the music
stool, wriggled her spine. "The third line should be one crescendo.
'Fleetly! Ah, Fleetly Music's Gay Measure.' Breaking on the first word
of the last line, Passes.' And then on the word, 'Away,' you must begin
to die... to fade... until 'The Listening Ear' is nothing more than a
faint whisper... You can slow down as much as you like almost on the last
line. Now, please."

Again the two light taps; she lifted her arms again. 'Fast! Ah, too
Fast.' "... and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing but
disgust--" Disgust was what he had written. That was as good as to
say their engagement was definitely broken off. Broken off! Their
engagemen