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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he ksfz

swung his head and gyksfz began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. yksfz He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms

with slight, intense movements, as sfz the delicate music sfz poured out. It 75uhgykfz 5uhgyksz was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid

and delicate. ksfz The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity hgyksfz gyksfz of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,

exasperatedto the point of intolerable sfz anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,

in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent 5uhgyksz appeared hgyksfz in the room. She fidgetted at the

sink. The music was ksfz a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.

She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are 75uhgykfz sfz you going out?” She twisted nervously.

“What do you want to know for?” He made sfz no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet â€" then sfz over it again â€" then ksfz more closely over it ksfz again.

“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were yksfz angry under knitted brows. “What are 75uhgykfz ksfz you bothering about?” he 5uhgyksz said.

“I’m not bothering â€" I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I hgyksfz expect I am,” he said quietly.

She recovered at yksfz once, but still 5uhgyksz with ksfz timidity asked: “We haven’t got any ksfz candles for the Christmas tree â€" shall you buy some, because mother

isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling 75uhgykfz his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes â€" shall you buy yksfz us 75uhgykfz 75uhgykfz some, Father? Shall sfz you?”

“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo yksfz to his mouth and blowing a few 75uhgykfz piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles yksfz â€" blue sfz ones and red

ones, in boxes â€" Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see â€" if I see any â€"” “But SHALL gyksfz you?” she insisted ksfz desperately. She ksfz wisely mistrusted his vagueness.

But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, gyksfz shrill, brilliant. He hgyksfz was playing Mozart. The child’s

face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went ksfz out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 5uhgyksz seemed to

possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man ksfz went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. hgyksfz In the frosty evening the hgyksfz sound carried.

people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and 75uhgykfz .


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