He wished, naturally, to begin work at once. He would have to have a
serious talk with his mother to-night. If these people ever went to bed!
Bicky looked heavenly to-night. My word! what a sister for any fellow to
have!
And Joyselle--he was far too great a person to be "Mistered." Fancy Mr.
Beethoven, or Mr. Paderewski! Joyselle the Great and Glorious would help
him. The mater appeared to like him. It was strange, for she had been in
a terrible rage the first day or two--but she certainly was as pleased
as Punch now.
Joyselle had crossed the room and was sitting by Bicky now. By Jove, he
was patting her hand! And before everybody!
Suddenly he rose, she smiled up into his dark face, and he called Tommy.
"Tommy, will you go to my room and bring me my Amati?"
Why Tommy did not then and there burst with joy, that enraptured little
boy never knew. When he put the violin into the master's hand the child
trembled so that the master saw it. "When I have played one thing, you
are to go to bed," he said gravely. "You are tired."
And the spoiled and headstrong Tommy, he whose word was law to his
mother and many other people, nodded obediently. "I will play again for
you alone to-morrow," added Joyselle.
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