The Don advanced to the threshold of the room, and giving one glance within, turned to his host with a look of mingled admiration and surprise. The old gentleman, who was as transparent as glass, fairly beamed with gratification at observing the pleased astonishment of his guest. “Walk in, walk in,” said he, wreathed in smiles. “Be careful,” added he, laying hold of the Don’s arm, as the latter’s feet seemed disposed to fly from under him,—“the floor is as smooth as glass.”
“So I perceive. Why, what on earth can you do with such a room in the country?” And the Don lifted his eyes to the very lofty ceiling.
“That’s the question!” observed Mr. Whacker, giving Charley a knowing look.
“One would say it was a ball-room,” said the Don, looking down upon the perfectly polished floor, in which their figures stood reflected as in a mirror.
“It would do very well for that,” said the old gentleman. “I think it would puzzle you to find the joints in that floor,” he added, stooping down and running his thumb nail across a number of the very narrow planks. “You observe, the room is ceiled throughout with heart-pine,—no plastering anywhere. I used, as you see, the darker wood for the floor, and selected the lightest-colored planks for the ceiling; while I made the two shades alternate on the walls. You think so? Well, I think it ought to be, for I was several years collecting and selecting the lumber for this room,—not a plank that I did not inspect carefully. And so you think it would make a good ball-room? So it would, in fact. Thirty feet by twenty would give room for a goodly number of twinkling feet.”
“I see a piano at the other end of the room.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Whacker, leaning forward, his fingers interlaced behind his back, and his smiling eyes fixed upon the floor. He was giving the Don time,—he had not seen everything in the room.
“What!” exclaimed the latter, suddenly, as his eyes chanced to stray into a corner of the room, which was rather dark with its closed blinds. “Is not that a violin-case standing in the corner?”
“Yes, that’s a violin case,” rejoined Mr. Whacker, softly, while his eyes made an involuntary movement in the direction of the neighboring corner.
“And another!” exclaimed the Don, “and still another! and, upon my word, there is a violoncello in the fourth corner!”