That is not given to any man.
Sometimes his hands slipped.
Had he learned the piano in his younger days this might not have happened.

But if he had been a pianist the president would probably have wiped him out--and very rightly.

There can be no doubt about male pianists.
Nor was the fault always Andrew's.

When the society was founded, many far-seeing men had got wind of it, and had themselves elected honorary members before the committee realised what they were after.
This was a sore subject with the president; he shunned discussing it, and thus Andrew had frequently to discontinue cases after he was well on with them.
In this way much time was lost.
Andrew was privately thanked by the committee for one suggestion, which, for all he knows, may yet be carried out.

The president had a wide interest in the press, and on one occasion he remarked to Andrew: "Think of the snobs and the prigs who would be saved if the 'Saturday Review' and the 'Spectator' could be induced to cease publication!" Andrew thought it out, and then produced his scheme.
The battle of the clans on the North Inch of Perth had always seemed to him a master-stroke of diplomacy.
"Why," he said to the president, "not set the 'Saturday's' staff against the 'Spectator's.' If about equally matched, they might exterminate each other." So his days of probation passed, and the time drew nigh for Andrew to show what stuff was in him..