Keineth, with puzzled eyes, tried to understand. Mrs. Lee patted her hand.
"How your mother would have loved to hear what these fingers can do! She had a nature that was like a song in its sweetness. But your father is right; before all else you must build up this little body of yours!"
"What did he mean, Aunt Nellie?"
"He wants you to run and play games and grow strong. And you must not be discouraged and unhappy if you can't keep up just yet with Peggy and Billy and the others. Remember, while they've been racing their legs off you've been doing other things. If Peggy _can_ beat you at tennis, you just ask her to play one of her pieces for you! Poor Peg, her fingers are all thumbs! Everything evens up in this funny world, child."
"You're so wonderful, Aunt Nellie! I did fed as if Peggy didn't like me because I couldn't do things as well as she can, but if she'll help me learn to swim real well and beat Billy just once at tennis, I'll help her with her music!"
"A fine idea, Keineth! And then sometimes, when Peggy perhaps wants to do something that you don't care about, I will help you write down the music you play. Some day we will surprise them all--you and I will have a secret!"
Keineth clapped her hands eagerly. "Oh, I have wished I could! It'll be such fun! I'll send it to my father! You _are_ wonderful, Aunt Nellie." The child threw her arms about Mrs. Lee's neck in a burst of joy.
"Remember, now! No discouraged heart because you can't get a ball over the net or stand on your head in the water!"
That evening an east wind blowing up with a fine, driving rain, gave an excuse for a fire in the big fireplace. And as they sat around it; Alice on the arm of her mother's chair, Barbara close to her father, a little silent, because Carol Day _had_ beaten her; Peggy and Keineth on the floor side by side, and Billy and his dog sprawled near the door, Mrs. Lee told the children the story of the little boy who went each day to his attic room to play on the old piano there; how one day, the sound of the music reaching the ears of people below, they crept one by one to the dark stairway to listen. Then in wonder they brought others and even more. These foolish folk thought it was a spirit who came to the attic room and made the music, but finally one of them crept closer and opened the door and found the little boy!
"I know, Mother," cried Barbara, "it was Mozart!"