"It is right? Now I call that fortunate," goes on Betty, quietly. "I expect you know how to put it in, don't you, Bob?"
Bob melts still further at this. "Oh, yes; Mr. Wright, one of the teachers at my school, showed me how to put strings in. It's easy enough."
"Ah! but I've heard father say that it's very difficult to get a violin in tune after fitting in a new string."
Bob's face clouds over again; but Betty hastens to add, "Couldn't I help you a bit with the tuning? Couldn't I sound the notes on the piano while you screwed up the string—surely, that is the way people generally do tune violins?"
"Yes; but——"
"But what, Bob, dear?"
"You've got those accounts to do, or something."
"Oh, I've done for to-day. Come, I shall enjoy it, not the music, just yet, perhaps, but I should enjoy helping you, Bob."
Bob makes no answer to this; but directly tea is finished he runs upstairs for the violin-case, and the brother and sister are soon seated together before the shabby little piano.
For the next half-hour there is little heard between them, save—"Too sharp, Bob." "A little lower still." "I say, Betty, give us the octave of that note," and so on. At last the instrument is really in tune, and then the pair try an exercise together, with fairly good results. Bob is delighted.