But as fate had ordained otherwise he retreated to his piano, and succeeded in irritating Captain Oliphant considerably by his brilliant execution, vocal and instrumental, of some of his favourite pieces.
The day, however, was too hot even for music, and after an hour's practice Mr Armstrong gave it up and took a book.
But that was dull, and he tried to write some letters.

Worse and worse.
The place was stifling, and the pen almost melted in his hand.
What was the matter with him?
Why did he feel so down, so lonely.
Surely he could exist a day without his pupil, whatever the temperature.
Perhaps he had his doubts about the boy's success in the coming examination.

No; he fancied that would be all right.

He would try a stroll in the park.

It could not at least be hotter under the trees than in the house.
Across the passage a door stood wide open--a familiar door, through which he caught sight of a familiar easel on the floor, and over the fireplace one or two familiar Indian knick-knacks.