“I? I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve listened to his playing. He can’t get anybody to do that for him in Wyck.”
“They hear enough of me on Sundays.”
“Then they haven’t heard him. He plays much better on week-days, when he plays to me,” said Effie.
“So I can imagine,” Mrs. Hollyer said.
“She thinks I’m better than I am,” said Hollyer.
“Go on thinking it. That’s the way to make him better.” She was smiling at Effie as if she liked her.
All through tea-time and after they talked about Wilfrid’s playing and Wilfrid and Wyck, and the people of Wyck, and how they knew nothing and cared nothing about Wilfrid’s playing.
Twilight came, twilight of October. He was going to walk back with Effie down the hill to Lower Wyck.
As the house door closed behind them he said: “Now you know why I’m nothing but an organist at Wyck.”