At first the music was very soft and sweet, with here and there a detached note of silvery clearness; it seemed as if the lovely, wordless improvisation told in music of the mimic life of fairyland. Shrill sweet cries of tiny sprites summoning each other to dance within the circle of a fairy ring appeared to be answered by an airy, invisible crowd, and one could easily imagine he heard the sound of tripping feet and rippling laughter. Presently the gossamer host, it might be fancied, fluttered about and danced with a kind of soft gayety, like the whirling of dry leaves on the mossy ground when light breezes stir them. All this, and the sound of flying feet, gently clapping hands, and the light swish of elfin robes were expressed, perhaps unconsciously to himself, in the varying strains that breathed from Philip’s flute.
Then the boy paused for a moment to take breath, and in an instant the fairy crew vanished as suddenly as they had come, and there was no sound but the murmur of the wind among the trees and the soft lapping of water. Then Philip put his flute again to his lips, and now—hark! A bird, high up in the branches over his head, called sweetly to its mate; at first very softly and as though sleepily, and then, as the clear notes of the flute cut more sharply into the still afternoon air, his glad torrent of sound filled the green forest with joyous melody. If any others than Dash (who was fast asleep) had been there to listen, they would doubtless have looked curiously among the branches overhead, expecting every moment to see the flashing of a feathered breast or wing. Once again Philip paused to unpurse his lips, and this time a slight sound of rippling water behind him caused him to turn his head; and great was his surprise to see a small, gayly painted boat drawn up close to the bank on which he lay, and it was the sound of oars, dipped gently now and then into the water to keep the boat from drifting away, which had attracted the boy’s attention. Dash awoke almost at the same moment, with a sleepy bark of inquiry, and Philip sprang at once to his feet, flushed and embarrassed.
There was a gentleman in the boat, and Philip remarked at a glance that he was very tall and distinguished-looking, in spite of the fact that he was dressed in a careless, négligé fashion, and that he was browned as though from much exposure to the air and sun. He gave one the impression, somehow, of being in not quite perfect health, in spite of his coat of tan; and his handsome mouth had a downward droop under its brown mustache which gave his face an expression of weariness. His eyes, however, were full of amusement as he looked at Philip, and he smiled reassuringly, reaching up as he sat in the boat to seize a low-growing limb by which to steady himself.
“I am afraid I have interrupted the concert,” he said pleasantly, in a deep, musical voice. “Perhaps you will think it was not quite fair to have crept up upon you unawares, but the music of your flute drew me from away across the lake, and I confess that I approached as quietly as possible, fearing that the delicious sounds might cease. You play with rare skill, my boy.”
Philip flushed with pleasure to be thus praised by the handsome stranger.
“Do ye really mean it, sir?” he asked eagerly.
“I do, indeed,” said the gentleman; “and may I ask who has been your teacher?”
Philip shook his head. “No one, sir,” he said. “I have just picked it up myself at odd moments.”
The gentleman whistled softly and looked at the boy keenly.
“A veritable infant prodigy,” he said half to himself; and then aloud, with a twinkle in his eye: