“No, it won’t be jolly, Mr. Hope, but we’ll hear some enchanting music. Good-by!”
Barney re-entered the room, and found Langly standing beside the piano like a man awakened from a dream, apparently not quite knowing where he was.
“You must have something to drink,” cried Barney, cordially. “You look fagged out, and no wonder. I never heard Chopin so well rendered before. I tell you, my boy, you get all out of a piano that’s in it, don’t you know. Now, will you have whiskey or brandy?”
Langly thanked him, but refused either beverage. He had a long walk before him, and was anxious to get away, he said.
“Walk!” cried Barney. “Nonsense! Why should you walk, and thus insult every self-respecting cabby you meet? I’ll see about the walking; I hope I know my duty towards the hansom industry.”
Barney touched an electric bell, and when his man appeared said to him:
“Just send Buttons to the King’s Road for a hansom. When it comes, give the cabby ten shillings and tell him he belongs to his fare for four hours. Ask him to wait at the door till his fare comes, and meanwhile, bring in some whiskey and soda. Now, Mr. Organist—I always forget names—ah, Langly, here it is on the card, of course. Have you ever composed any music yourself? I thought so. Ever published any? I thought not. Well, my boy, we must remedy all that. You’re too modest; I can see that. Now, modesty doesn’t pay in London. I know, because I suffer from it myself. Heavens! if I only had the cheek of some men, I would be the most famous painter in Europe. If you bring a few of your compositions to me, I’ll get a publisher for you. Will you promise? Nonsense! not worthy? Bosh! Compared with the great composers? My dear fellow, the great composers were all very well in their way, I’ve no doubt, but they were once poor devils like you. Because Raphael painted, is that any reason why I should not improve on him? Not a bit of it. You and I will be old masters in painting and music some few centuries hence—you just wait and see. The great point is to realize that you’re an old master while you’re young and can do something. If you don’t recognize the fact yourself, you may be jolly well sure no one else will—at least, not in time to do you any good here below. Do have some whiskey; ‘it’s cheering and comforting,’ as the advertisements say. Well, here’s to you!”
“I came to see you, Mr. Hope,” stammered Langly, diffidently, “because Marsten—one of your father’s employees—told me he thought you might—that you were good enough to help once——”
“Oh. yes, I remember Marsten. He was here about some fellow knocking down a few policemen. Well—has he knocked down some more?”
“No, but he is in great trouble, Mr. Hope.”