"Oh, yes, I suppose I must imbibe it all," the girl answered dubiously. "But science! How I hate the word. It reminds me of all kinds of animals and creeping things being cut up on our laboratory table at school—just before lunch hour at that. Professor! Just think of it! But poetry! O how I love it! But let me play one more etude to please you. Which one shall I dissect? They all belong to the same species of black beetle crawling up and down the eternal scale!"
"Venna, shame on you!" came with a soft drawl, the tone of which seemed to say, "Venna, I'm charmed with you!"
The girl turned to see her aunt's round, mild face peering through the portieres.
"O auntie, have you been in the recess all the time? Why didn't you tell me and I would have said just the right thing!"
Here Professor Strausbey struck a vehement introductory chord which Venna understood to mean the finale of patience.
Taking her violin, she began her etude with slow, deliberate carefulness.
The lesson over, Venna helped her Professor into his coat, re-assuring him at the same time, "My next lesson will be perfect."
"I've heard that before," he laconically returned, taking his hat and half smiling into the bright upturned face with its large brown eyes and inquisitive, tilted nose. Bright brown curls artistically framed this picture of life, temperament and joyousness. So he thought, but he said tersely, "Plan less and do more!"
As the door closed upon him, Venna pulled aside the portieres.
"Auntie, isn't he the dear old bear?"