I don't want to walk out under his wing!" The tall dark figure of the music master was striding through the doorway, carrying his small son, who hugged his toy with one arm, and waved a friendly good-by with the other.
"What possessed you to drop all your music, child ?" said Quenrede, rather patronizingly to Ingred.

She was still trying to live up to the plum-colored hat.

"You played ever so decently afterwards, though--you did, really! Don't tell me again that you're nervous, for it's all rubbish.

You looked as if you enjoyed it." "Enjoyed it!" echoed Ingred.

"If you'd gone through the palpitations that I felt this afternoon you'd want to go to a specialist, and consult him for heart trouble! I've lived through it this once, but if I'm ever asked to play again in public, you'd better go to the cemetery beforehand, and choose a picturesque corner for my grave, and buy a weeping willow ready to plant upon it.