"That's rather hard on the composer, Miss Stanton. Come, I count for you! One, two, three. One, two, three; One, two, three. The fingers should be little hammers, so! One, two, three. Dear young lady, this is not a thumb exercise; it is for the fingers."
"Am I playing with my thumbs?" she asked.
"Come; please, please!" he entreated.
"I can't refuse when you plead so hard," she said.
"One, two, three; one, two, three," he counted monotonously.
"You like me, don't you?" she asked irrelevantly, a mischievous smile on her face. Von Barwig tried to look stern but failed ignominiously. "Please attend," he said. "One, two, three; one, two, three. Ah, you play so unevenly! Sometimes you have the touch of an artist, at another you make bungles."
"Bungles?" repeated Hélène, laughing. "What are they?"
"One, two, three; not six-eighth, dear lady, not six-eighth! So! One, two, three! one, two, three."
"Did I show you my new necklace?" she asked as she played on.
Von Barwig shook his head. "One, two, three," was all she could elicit from him.