“Of course the child has run to weeds—it couldn’t be otherwise. I must hear her play again, but at all odds she is a musician.” Then turning suddenly to Chee, he asked, “Where is your violin, my dear? You must play your best for me, then Gertrude shall tell you our plan.”
Chee looked frightened, “Why, Cousin Herman, I couldn’t, she’d hear me—I couldn’t for anything.”
“Who? Oh, I forgot. Well, we’ll have to fix it somehow. Where have you been playing all this while? Up attic? What’s the harm now, then?” So saying, Mr. Farrar proceeded to unlace his shoes.
Chee was a little tremulous over the undertaking, but Cousin Herman was firm; so carrying her small lamp she led the way up the front stairs, shielding the flickering flame with her hand. The light fell full upon her excited face. Now and then she paused in the slow, careful ascent to give whispered warning where a stair-riser might creak—all so familiar to her. Mr. Farrar easily stepped over these places, as did Chee, but, lest there should be any slight noise and their stealthy journey to the attic be disclosed, he assisted Gertrude over the treacherous places as indicated by their little Indian guide. When the garret was reached, Gertrude seated herself on a trunk. Mr. Farrar leaned against the chimney. Chee lingered at the railing, anxiously listening.
“SHE STOOD A MOMENT IN MEDITATION, THE VIOLIN ALREADY UNDER HER CHIN”
“Chee!” they both impatiently called, at the same time glancing curiously around.
She approached the familiar hiding-place, and very slowly drew out the old violin box. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips met in a straight line. A brave determination burned in her eyes. She realized in a vague way that much depended upon this effort, but with a pleased, expectant look she deftly attuned the strings of her instrument.
When this was done, she stood a moment in meditation, the violin already under her chin, lightly tapping one foot with the bow.
It was a queer place in which to make one’s début,—that dusty corner of the old loft. The tin lamp on a box lighted up the beams hung with long drooping garlands of cobwebs. Not within reach of the lamplight, or the pale moonshine coming through the curtainless windows, huge black shadows gathered around. But the weirdness of the aspect did not impress Chee; for her a more familiar spot could not have been chosen. Oh, how many happy hours she had spent in that dim little corner!