“When you have rehearsed it, you shall judge for yourself. Come, now …”
“Is there anything in it as good as that waltz of yours you played us when we were rehearthing ‘Mind How You Go?’ You remember. The one that went …”
A tall and stately girl, with sleepy brown eyes and the air of a duchess in the servants’ hall, bent forward and took a kindly interest in the conversation.
“Oh, have you composed a varlse, Mr Saltzburg?” she asked with pleasant condescension. “How interesting, really! Won’t you play it for us?”
The sentiment of the meeting seemed to be unanimous in favor of shelving work and listening to Mr Saltzburg’s waltz.
“Oh, Mr Saltzburg, do!”
“Please!”
“Some one told me it was a pipterino!”
“I cert’nly do love waltzes!”
“Please, Mr Saltzburg!”