Here Georg visibly weakened, for he remembered that Hans was expecting either a violin or a flute upon that occasion, and he nearly lost his studied indifference with the recollection. He was obliged to face about, to hide the sudden teardrops that glistened on his cheeks; and, marching proudly toward his father's pasture, with head high in air, and back steadily kept toward his forsaken band, he called out,—
"I'm not mad at you, but you can be mad at me if you like. I won't have a party to-morrow for Frieda and Peter, 'cause I like Hans and Otto better than I do them, 'cause they know how to keep time when I beat."
He had reached the pasture with the last word of parting, and flinging himself over the bars, he fled across the green as though twenty scouts of the enemy were close upon his heels. The mask that he had worn to conceal his heartburning had fallen, and he was crying bitterly as he ran.
Old Kappelstahr, Georg's special pet since the days when she was a sportive calf, stood mildly chewing her cud near the inner fence. As her master dashed among the kine in evident agitation, the heifer turned to look after him, apparently surprised that he had passed her by without a word of greeting.
Georg, glancing backward, happened to catch that look of gentle interest. He halted irresolutely, then, rushing to her side and throwing his arms about her neck, the dejected jurist sobbed out his woe upon her warm brown shoulder.
During the succeeding days and weeks, Georg felt as lonely as a shipwrecked mariner cast upon a deserted island of the sea. Instinctively, when lessons were done, he reached out for amusement to the musical toys that were his no longer. Sometimes he heard sounds arising from the pond-side, where his forbidden orchestra rehearsed under Otto's direction. That he might neither make music nor mingle with those who did, filled him with blank dismay; and hour by hour he wandered about the house and garden, unable to attach himself to other interests or games. His father required him to make an industrious use of his school hours, even adding to the regular course certain studies that he deemed useful to one preparing for a serious profession.
The old gentleman was sorry indeed when he saw how the absence of the musical toys and companions affected Georg, and he even sought to modify the discipline by presenting to the boy a complete set of carpenter's tools.
Georg thanked him for the gift, but what was the old gentleman's surprise, a week later, upon seeing the chest in his son's room, still unopened, with every tool in place, and across the wooden lid a series of black and white keys painted, in imitation of a harpsichord.
Mr. Händel frowned, but made no reference to the matter before Georg.