When the mother had cleared away the supper things, the father said, "Well, now bring me the pipe and let us hear what it sounds like."
Russli was a bit sleepy after his feast of corn-cakes, but the fear that Faz might snatch the pipe from him to carry it to his father and afterward keep it for himself brought him to his feet.
"For heaven's sake, what are you bringing me?" asked his father, taking the long pipe and examining it closely. "That is no ordinary pipe. It is a real shawm with all the necessary holes."
Lifting it to his lips, he brought forth something that sounded almost like a tune.
"Father can do better the first time than any of us after we had tried many times," said Jos in astonishment. "But Vinzi can do better than father."
"Then we will listen to him," said his father, handing Vinzi the pipe.
Vinzi remembered one little tune better than all others, and he had played it fully ten times that day for the boys. Alida had taught it to him. He played it now, and as he came to the end there was intense silence for a moment.
"Yes, he can play differently than I," admitted his cousin. "I wonder who taught him."
"That was lovely!" sighed his wife, quite overcome. "I would like our musician to play a hymn that we could all sing."
"And I can," said Vinzi, "because mother sings a hymn with us every evening at home. What shall I play?"