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“Moses stan’s on his head so’s his brains’ll filter back into place,” teased Mrs. Wopp. The words were hardly out of his mouth when the sound of an approaching team was heard. Betty eyed ruefully the silk shawl she had flung on the ground. “Tremendous long visit,” Billy taunted; “what’d you come for? Another donation for my new sister?”.

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“It’s my fault, too, Mrs. Bennett; don’t put the blame all on Billy,” Jean half sobbed; and hurried after him. The light shone through the colored glass window, casting a bluish tinge over the large earnest countenance of the teacher, and a distinct whisper was heard to the effect that “Mrs. Wopp’s face was blue moulderin’.” The pianist sat easily at the piano and began the Moskowski selection that had failed to create the expected furore in the afternoon. A cadenza that shivered down the spine like spray from a glacial torrent wakened the room. Then he plunged into the first theme. His small audience listened spell-bound. Betty’s eyes followed the fingers that leaped over the ivory keys like white flame. A subtle current began to play in the room. Steadily it grew in power. Magnetism to the nth degree was being generated. A tremendous chord brought the music to a close and the pianist to his feet. Something in Nell’s glance inspired him. He whirled about the room whistling and imitating some of the cadenzas and other passages from the selection just played. He gesticulated wildly with his hands, the passion for dramatic music oozing from his pores. Betty was still faintly laughing at Moses’ spirited retort to his mother’s observations on his singing..