get him to buy _any_ rug? He won't have so
much as a ravelling on the floor up here to walk on."

A startled dismay came into Marie's blue eyes.

"Why, I thought he wanted rugs," she faltered. "I'm sure he said--"

"Of course I want rugs," interrupted Cyril, irritably. "I want them
everywhere except in my own especial den. You don't suppose I want to
hear other people clattering over bare floors all day, do you?"

"Of course not!" Bertram's face was preternaturally grave as he turned
to the little music teacher. "I hope, Miss Marie, that you wear rubber
heels on your shoes," he observed solicitously.

Even Cyril laughed at this, though all he said was:

"Come, come, I got you up here to look at the rug."

Bertram, however, was not to be silenced.

"And another thing, Miss Marie," he resumed, with the air of a true and
tried adviser. "Just let me give you a pointer. I've lived with your
future husband a good many years, and I know what I'm talking about."

"Bertram, be still," growled Cyril.

Bertram refused to be still.

"Whenever you want to know anything about Cyril, listen to his playing.
For instance: if, after dinner, you hear a dreamy waltz or a sleepy
nocturne, you may know that all is well. But if on your ears there falls
anything like a dirge, or the wail of a lost spirit gone mad, better
look to your soup and see if it hasn't been scorched, or taste of your
pudding and see if you didn't put in salt instead of sugar."

"Bertram, will you be still?" cut in Cyril, testily, again.

"After all, judging from what Billy tells me," resumed Bertram,
cheerfully, "what I've said won't be so important to you, for you aren't
the kind that scorches soups or uses salt for sugar. So maybe I'd better
put it to you this way: if you want a new sealskin coat or an extra
diamond tiara, tackle him when he plays like this!" And with a swift
turn Bertram dropped himself to the piano stool and dashed into a
rollicking melody that half the newsboys of Boston were whistling.

What happened next was a surprise to every one. Bertram, very much as
if he were a naughty little boy, was jerked by a wrathful brother's hand
off the piano stool. The next moment the wrathful brother himself sat at
the piano, and there burst on five pairs of astonished ears a crashing
dissonance which was but the prelude to music such as few of the party
often heard.

Spellbound they listened while rippling runs and sonorous harmonies
filled the r