"Yes, all night in Fourteenth street, at the rich Brandons. Madam is very gay, this winter."
"I wish I were a musician," said Dick. "It must be jolly to see all the dancing and the bright dresses!"
"And the pretty ladies, eh? who don't mind you no more than if you were a stick or a stone. Indeed, my boy, you'd soon get tired of it; it seems so grand at first, the beautiful picture all in motion; but your eyes—they ache after a little. Too much light, my boy, too much light." And the musician went long journeys up and down his wonderful flute before he spoke again. "They'll go music-mad over some fool at the piano; but you play until your own music makes you wild, and never one thinks or cares about you. Last night, I played only for one. She was always dancing, and she seemed to go on the wings of the music just as it said to her go. I was not tired last night."
Awaiting no answer, he turned again to his flute, and all through the dingy, crowded house rang a joyous "Gloria in excelsis." Rough captives of labor heard it, and answered to it, knowing well the glad tidings, the most glorious ever sung, and yet sung to kings and shepherds alike. The old sinners heard it, and thought of the strange days when even they were young and innocent.
"Finis," cried the German, rising slowly, and putting on his shaggy overcoat. "I promised my wife that I would be home at nine, and, as do all the people here, I mind my wife; but it is one inconvenient thing. You will come to us after Mass, to-morrow?"
"You are too good to me. When I am rich, perhaps I shall know how to thank you."
"You should think yourself rich now. You are young; there is no riches like that."
"I wish I were older, though," sighed Dick.
"Never say that, never, never. The poorest youth is better than the richest age," said the German earnestly. I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Stoffs had just found his first gray hair, and was speaking under its influence. At all events, he did not convince Dick, who said, with equal earnestness and more quickness: