Bach festival. And little Sebastian, tugging at his violin, tuned and
squeaked and grunted with the rest, oblivious to the taps that fell on
his small head from surrounding bows. And when at last the tuning was
done and there burst forth the wonderful new melody of the choral,
Sebastian's heart went dizzy with the joy of it. And Uncle Heinrich on
the platform, strutting proudly back and forth, conducting the
choral--his own choral--forgot his anger and forgot Reinken, and forgot
everything except the Bachs playing there before him--playing as only
the Bachs, the united Bachs, could play--in all Germany or in all the
world.

III

The two boys had come to a turn in the road, and stood looking back over
the way they had come. The younger of the two looked up wistfully to the
cherry-blossomed trees overhead. "It is hot, Sebastian!--Let us rest."

With a smile the other boy threw himself on the grass. The large, flat
book that he carried under his arm fell to the ground beside him, and
his hand stole out and touched it. He had a wide, quiet face, with blue
eyes and a short nose, and lips that smiled dreamily to themselves. As
he lay looking up into the white blossoms that swayed and waited against
the clear blue of the sky, the lips curved in gentle content.

His companion, who had thrown himself on the cool grass beside him,
watched him admiringly. His glance shifted and rested on the book that
lay on the grass. "What is it?--What is it, Sebastian?" he asked
timidly. He put out an inquisitive finger toward the book.

Sebastian turned it quietly aside. "Let be," he said.

The boy flushed. "I was not going to touch it."

The other smiled, with his slow, generous eyes fixed on the boy's face.
"Thou art a good boy, Erdman!" ... "It is only thy fingers that itch to
know things." He patted them gently, where they lay on the grass beside
him.

Erdman was still looking at the book. "Was it your brother's?" he asked
in a half whisper.

"Christoph's?" Sebastian shook his head. "No, it is mine--my own."

The soft wind was among the blossoms overhead--they fell in petals, one
by one, upon the quiet figures.

"Want to know 'bout it?" asked Sebastian, half turning to meet his
companion's eye.

The boy nodded.

"It's mine. I copied it, every note--six months it took me--from
Christoph's book."

"Did he let you?"

Sebastian shook his head, a grim, sweet smile curving the big mouth.
"Let me?--Christoph!"

The b