Dot did not hesitate a moment. He had been ill she knew: a wetting might prove serious.
‘You must come in,’ she said, pushing open her little gate, ‘come and wait till it clears.’ She preceded him up the path and sprang up [p 67] ]the verandah steps into shelter, shaking the raindrops off her little short curls and laughing breathlessly after the few minutes’ hurry.
‘What a dear little girl!’ he said to himself, following with the utmost gladness.
He had never spent in all his life a pleasanter hour than the next one.
His artistic eye was charmed with the arrangements of the simple drawing-room, it was a real pleasure to run his fingers upon a good piano once more—here was all the music that made the earth a happy abiding place, and above all there was the presence of the sweet little girl with short soft curls, wide, eager eyes, and a voice truly wonderful. Oh the beautiful hour it was!
They had both gone straight to the piano as naturally as ducks go to water; they tried whole pages of different operas together, and went twice through some of the songs, just for the sheer pleasure of singing.
Then he played some Beethoven she had never found beautiful before, and after that [p 68] ]she played at his request piece after piece, and he was surprised at her culture.
He almost feared once or twice that the whole occurrence was an enchanted dream which would fade presently.
On his knees at the Canterbury drawer he found the score of Faust bent open at the ‘Jewel Song.’ He held it up eagerly.
‘Let me hear you in this,’ he said. ‘You sing it?’