“You haven’t got on with that piece a bit!”
“What’s the good?” the pupil would remark, twisting round on the music stool; “I can play nearly all of it from ear!”
“That’s not the same”—severely—“that’s only frivolling. I’m not here to teach you to strum.”
“No” Norah would agree abstractedly. “Mr. Groom, you know that poley bullock down in the far end paddock—”
“No, I don’t,” severely. “This is a music lesson, Norah; you’re not after cattle now!”
“Wish I were!” sighed the pupil. “Well, will you come out with the dogs this afternoon?”
“Can’t; I’m wanted in the office. Now, Norah—”
“But if I asked father to spare you?”
“Oh, I’d like to right enough.” Mr. Groom was young, and the temptress, if younger, was skilled in wiles.
“But your father—”