That Georg speedily recovered his vaulting spirits, every one remarked; but none guessed the reason. The good surgeon supposed that the boy's regret for his lost playthings and companions was forgotten, and he smiled to see his son as noisy and mischief-loving as before the September episode.
The conspirators were for a time in terror of discovery, but the tones of the clavichord were so thin and muffled that their tinkling would never disturb a drowsy garret mouse, much less penetrate the oaken floors to the chambers under foot. No one but Georg's mother ever visited the attic region, and during this important season, she chanced to be afflicted with acute rheumatic pain that prevented her climbing the steep stair leading to the treasure-house.
The winter was a long one and cold, but Anna and Georg, in their high retreat, were as happy and comfortable as meadow-larks. Trunks, chests, old clothing, and discarded furniture abounded there; bunches of dried herbs were strung to the cross-beams, and cobwebs draped the outlying nooks; but the great chimney emitted a cosy warmth, and the clavichord provided unceasing entertainment.
"The clavichord provided unceasing entertainment."
As time went by, Anna's interest waned considerably, owing to the succeeding preparations of Christmas gifts, March birthday festivities, and spring finery; but when months had rolled away and summer suns were once more ripening the fruit and coloring the flowers, Georg was as intently absorbed in the clavichord as on the day of its first appearance.
One June morning he was starting for a day's visit with some cousins who lived on the most fashionable street in Halle. He was attired for the occasion in his best suit of shining black satin. A deep collar of Mechlin lace, a pair of gleaming silver shoe-buckles, and a silver cord wound around his broad black beaver filled him with satisfaction as he emerged from the house door.
At this juncture Mr. Händel drove into the gravelled plaza lying between stable and street, and Georg observed with surprise that the carriage was festooned with yellow streamers, that Mummer, the staid mare, was groomed until she shone, and tricked out in the yellow harness and tassels reserved for state occasions.
"Where are you going, father?" called Georg.