Then you will have sung it to the end." "We can't do that," Lippo wailed.

"This is a morning song and we can't sing it at night.

We must finish it now.

Wait, Kurt!" he cried aloud, when he saw that the boy was taking up his school-bag.
"What can we do?
Where is your mother?
Why does she run away at such a moment ?" Uncle Philip cried out helplessly.

"Call for your mother! You mustn't go on like that." Lippo had run back to the piano and, leaning against it, was crying bitterly.