"Which phrase are you talking about," Aaron asked—"the one that goes 'Ta-ra-reera, ta-ra-reera'?"
He sang the two measures in a clear tenor voice, whereat Louis snatched the violin from his brother's grasp and, seating himself at the piano, he struck the major triad of C natural with force sufficient to wreck the instrument.
"Sing 'Ah'!" he commanded.
Aaron attacked the high C like a veteran and Professor Ladislaw Wcelak leaped from the piano stool with an inarticulate cry. Immediately thereafter he secured a strangle-hold on his brother and kissed him Budapest fashion on both cheeks.
"To-morrow night already you will commence lessons with the best teacher money could buy," he declared.
"Whose money?" Aaron Shellak inquired, as he wiped away the marks of his brother's affection—"yours or mine?"
"Me—I ain't got no money," Louis admitted.
"Me neither," Aaron said. He was the sole support of his mother and sisters, for Louis, as chef d'orchestre in a Second Avenue restaurant, constantly anticipated his salary over stuss or tarrok in the rear of his employer's café.
"How much would it take?" he asked Louis after a silence of several minutes.
Louis shrugged.