“It means, father, I would like to play the violin with you,” replied Wolfgang. “Please let me play the second violin.”
“Why, you silly child,” said his father, laughing, “what put such a notion as that in your head? You can make believe you are playing with us, but as to playing in earnest, you cannot do it. Perhaps the time may come when you can.”
“I can now, really and truly,” said Wolfgang, with flashing eyes and a look of absolute confidence.
“Did you learn to play the violin in your sleep?” said his father, jokingly.
“No, not in my sleep, but when I was awake,” replied Wolfgang. “Just let me try once, papa, and then I will explain it all to you.”
His father, of course, had not the slightest idea that Wolfgang had secretly learned the violin, and consequently thought the boy was only in sport. “When we go home, we will try a little minuet, Wolfgang, but don’t disturb us any more now.”
“A minuet! That is easy,” answered the boy. “Let me play Herr Wenzel’s trio with you. Then I will show you what I can do.”
His father now began to grow seriously displeased at the boy’s persistence, which seemed to him little else than idle boasting, and he somewhat unwillingly pushed him back. “Go away, go away,” said he. “Because you can play the piano it does not follow that you understand the violin. Go away, and don’t make yourself ridiculous.”
“But, father,” replied Wolfgang, tearfully, “it does not require much skill to play the second violin.”
“Silly child; your head must be a little turned or you would not talk such nonsense,” replied his father, at last really vexed, for he thought his son’s remark was disrespectful to his friends, Schachtner and Wenzel. “Go away, and don’t annoy us any longer. You need not fancy you know everything because the good God has given you a little skill. That is childish folly, and you must quit it. Remember that.”