'A great many years, Fauntleroy!' exclaimed his mother, while the gentleman moved uneasily as she spoke. 'Madame Fardeau has not been dead a great many years. You are not a great many years old!'
'Why, mother, the little lilies were in bloom, the first time.'
'And that was in June, Sir,' she said, half-laughingly, and appealing to the stranger.
''Well, well, you make too much noise to be about a bad business. So you like this tinkling cymbal?'
'Sir—so much!'
'Who taught you to play?'
'I do not yet play; but I shall.'
'That does not answer my question. Have you had a teacher?'
'No.'
The gentleman stooped and examined the piano. 'Who keeps your instrument in order?' he asked with a comical shrug.