"

The child bobbed primly, and lifted a pair of dark, reflective eyes to
his face.

His own smiled shrewdly.

"She will be a good pupil," he said; "it is the musical type." The green
coat and white trousers bowed circumspectly to the small figure.

"Now, Marie"--the tall lady shook out her skirts--"Herr Schubert will
try your voice. But first, Herr Schubert, will you not give us the
pleasure?" She motioned politely toward the piano, and sank back with an
air of fatigued sentiment.

He sat down on the stool and ran his white, fat fingers through his
curling hair. It bristled a little. The fingers fell to his knees, and
his big head nodded indecisively. Then it was thrown back, and the
fingers dropped on the keys: the music of a Beethoven sonata filled the
room.

The grand lady forgot her sentiment, and the little waxlike figures gave
way. Their eager, tremulous eyes rested wonderingly on the broad back
of the player.

The white fingers had dropped on the keys with the lightness of a
feather. They rose and flashed and twinkled, and ran along the keyboard
with swift, steel-like touch. The door at the end of the room opened
softly. A tall man entered. He looked inquiringly at the grotesque
green-and-white figure seated before the piano, then his glance met his
wife's, and he sank into a big chair by the door, a pleased look on his
dark face. The younger child glanced at him shyly. He returned the look
and smiled. The child's face brightened.

The door opened again, and a slight figure stood in the doorway. He
looked approvingly toward the piano, and dropped into a chair at the
other side of the door, twirling his long, light mustaches.

The player, wrapped in sound, was oblivious to the world outside. The
music enveloped him and rose about him, transfiguring the plain, squat
figure, floating above the spectacled face and crisp, curling locks. His
hearers glanced approvingly at one another now and then, but no one
spoke or moved. Suddenly they were aware that a new mood had crept into
the notes. Quick, sharp flashes of fear alternated with passages of
clear, sunlit strength, and underneath the changing melody galloping
hoof-beats rose and fell.

The dark-eyed child sat poised forward, her hands clasped about her
knees, her tremulous gaze fixed on the flying fingers. She started and
caught her breath sharply. Faster and faster thudded the hoofs; the note
of questioning fear beat louder, and into the sweet, answe