"Is he your best singer?" enquired the Mother. Another laugh followed.
"Nay, Mother, no one sings so badly."
"Indeed! How does the Singing Master sing, Joachim?"
"Oh, Mother," cried Joachim, "so beautifully, it would make the tears come into your eyes with pleasure, to listen to him."
"Well, but as I cannot listen to him, let me, at all events, have the pleasure of hearing my clever son imitate him," was the reply.
Joachim was mute. He had a voice, though not a remarkable one, but he had shirked the labour of trying to improve it by practice. He made one effort to sing like the Master, but overpowered by a sense of incapacity, his voice failed, and he felt disposed to cry.
"Why, Joachim, I thought you were such a clever creature you could imitate any thing," cried the Mother.
No answer fell from the abashed boy, till a sudden thought revived him.
"But I can imitate the singing-master, Mother."
"Let me hear you, my dear child."