"Ah! many people refuse to become teachers from false pride, and a notion that it degrades. I don't think so. Do you?"
What was I to say? The girl certainly had discovered me in spite of beard and eyebrow. I looked at her full in the face. No—there was no consciousness there. Nothing but kindness, and a strange look of compassion, with which it was impossible to take offence, for there was an appearance of deep interest in it, which was flattering to my self-love.
"Madam, I have never hitherto thought of having pupils."
"O, but you will now. I have long been anxious for a flute accompaniment to my piano. I will speak to papa."
"Miss Pybus," whispered Mr Hooker, "if you have had a long enough conversation with that fiddler, will you fulfil your promise of dancing with me this dance?"
"Certainly," she said—"I never draw back from my promise;" and I was left alone. In one of the pauses of the dance I saw her speak to her father. He expanded into a smile like a gigantic sunflower, and chucked her under the chin, and away she went, still followed by that beaming smile. I grew tired of watching the happiness of Mr Hooker, and was about to slip noiselessly away—Mr Pybus glowed up to where I stood.
"My daughter tells me you have no objection to give her a few lessons on music, and accompany her on the flute," he said.
"I am not aware, sir," I began. But at this moment I saw Emily's eye fixed on me as she moved towards us in the dance.
"Well, well, if she's quite satisfied with your proficiency, I am. Come up on Friday to Muswell Hill, Holly-Hock House—Mr Pybus. Here's my card; we have a party on that evening, and you can begin by accompanying the piano. Hire a cab, and let me know your expenses. We shall not fall out about terms."