That afternoon when her music master came he was astonished to find her pensive and downcast instead of joyful and happy, as he expected. "There has been a lovers' quarrel," he said to himself. "Little missie wanted her way and young master wanted his. It is nothing," he decided, as he opened the music books.
"Have you studied your lesson?" he asked.
"No," replied Hélène, without thinking.
"Well, do the best you can," he said. To his utter astonishment she played the whole exercise through without looking at the music, without any effort and without playing a single false note.
To say that Von Barwig was astounded is putting it mildly. He simply gasped for breath.
"Gott in Himmel, Fräulein! Ach, du lieber Gott! what style, what touch, what progress! Ah," and then it came to him all at once, "your father has come back; you want to show him progress, is it not? You have practised on the sly, eh? Ah—" and he shook his finger reproachfully at her.
Hélène looked at him and laughed. "If father was only like you," she thought.
"Yes," she said aloud. "I suppose I wanted to show my father the progress I have made, so I practised on the sly."
"Let us continue," said Von Barwig, who was now very anxious to see what new surprise his pupil was going to give him.
"Have you arranged with Mrs. Cruger about giving her nieces lessons?" asked Hélène, carelessly striking a few chords on the piano.