rs. Uncle William leaned forward and smiled at her, nodding
encouragement.

She replied with a quick, shy smile and fixed her eyes on the platform.

More pupils followed--young girls and old ones, and a youth with a
violin that fluttered and wailed and grew harmonious at last as the
youth forgot himself. Uncle William's big, round face beamed upon him.
Sergia, watching him from behind the scenes, could see that he regarded
them all as nice children. He would have looked the same had they played
on jews'-harps and tin horns. But he was enjoying it. She was glad of
that.

She came out during the intermission to speak with him. "They're all
through now," she said encouragingly.

He looked down at his program bewildered, and a little disappointed, she
thought. "They got 'em all done?--I didn't hear that 'Wanderin' Iceberg'
one," he said regretfully. "I cal'ated to listen to that. But I was so
interested in the children that I clean forgot.--They're nice children."
He looked about the room where they were laughing and talking in groups.
"Time to go, is it?"

"Not yet. That was only the first half--the pupils' half. The rest
is what I wanted you to hear--the sea-pieces and the others. They are
played by real musicians."

"You goin' to do one?" asked Uncle William.

"Yes, one." She smiled at him.

"I'll stay." He settled back comfortably.

"That's right. I must go now and speak to some of the mothers. They only
come for the first half. They will be going home." She moved away.

Uncle William's eyes followed her admiringly. He turned to the old
gentleman beside him. "Nice girl," he said.

"She is a fine teacher," responded the old gentleman. "She had not been
here long, but she had a good following. She has temperament."

"Has she?" Uncle William looked after her a little quizzically. "Makes
'em stand around does she? You can't ever tell about temper. Sometimes
it's the quietest ones has the wust. But she makes 'em work good. You
can see that."

"Yes, she makes them work." The old gentleman smiled upon him kindly
and patronizingly. He had been born and brought up in New York. He
was receptive to new ideas and people. There was something about Uncle
William--a subtle tang--that he liked. It was a new flavor.

Uncle William studied his program. "Sounds more sensible'n some of it."
He had laid a big finger on a section near the end. "I can understand
that, now, 'To an Old White Pine.' That's interestin'. Now that