“Of course, she iss not a perfect violinist,” he told Aunt Betty. “Ve could hardly expect dat, you know. But for a young lady of her age und experience she has made rapid progress. Herr Wilmot, who gave de first lessons had de right idea, und there iss nothing dat he taught her dat ve shall have to change.”
Out on the broad gallery, as he was taking his leave, the professor looked proudly at Dorothy again.
“I repeat dat I am glad to meet you und have you for a pupil. Vhen shall de first lesson be given?”
Dorothy threw a quick glance at Aunt Betty.
“Not for at least four weeks, Herr Deichenberg,” said that lady.
“Eh? Vhat!” cried the old music master. “Not for four veeks! Vhy iss it dat you vait an eternity? Let us strike vhile de iron iss hot, as de saying has it.”
“But, Herr, my little girl has just returned from a winter of strenuous study at the Canadian school of Oak Knowe, and I have promised her a rest before she takes up her music.”
“If dat iss so, I suppose I shall have to curb my impatience,” he replied, regretfully. “But let de time be as short as possible. If you are going avay, please notify me of your return, und I vill manage to come to Bellvieu to give Miss Dorothy her first lesson. But don’t make it too long! I am anxious—anxious. She vill make a great musician—a great musician. So goot day, ladies. It has been a pleasure to me—dis visit.”
“Let us hope there will be many more, Herr Deichenberg,” said Aunt Betty.