His heavy eyebrows drew together.
"You told me to harmonise that Christmas carol," he remarked, rather shortly.
Falbe put his hand on his shoulder.
"Look here, Michael," he said, "you're vexed with me.

Now, there's nothing to be vexed at.

You know quite well you were leaving out lots of notes from those jolly fat chords, and that you weren't playing cleanly.
Now I'm taking you seriously, and I won't have from you anything but the best you can do.

You're not doing your best when you don't even play what is written.

You can't begin to work at this till you do that." Michael had a moment's severe tussle with his temper.