"I can't think," proceeded Mrs. Fabian, "that anything but a high sense of duty would induce anybody to make the blood-curdling noises that I've heard lately from Edgar's room."
A short silence; then Mrs. Fabian spoke again. "It seems he cannot go any longer to the place where he has done his practising. I'm afraid if he should work evenings here, it might annoy you, Henry."
"I dare say it might," agreed the weary man, with an involuntary sigh.
"I was thinking that if he is not very busy at the office—"
"Very busy!" The father threw back his head.
"You might give him a longer vacation"—
"Edgar's whole life is a vacation," said Mr. Fabian.
"And let him go with us to the island. If he is really going to make music his lifework he could practise regularly there and be away from temptations, and—"
Mr. Fabian slowly faced his wife with such attention that she paused hopefully, then went on:—
"You know Philip Sidney is going with me, and his companionship would be so good for Edgar."