with an instrument of his own make. Without accompaniment, Lynn
played, and the Doctor nodded his enthusiastic approval. Herr Kaufmann
looked out of the window and paid not the slightest attention to the
performance.

"Very fine," said the Doctor. "We have enjoyed it."

"I am glad," replied Lynn, modestly. Then, flushed with the praise, and
his own pleasure in his achievement, he turned to the Master. "How am I
getting on?" he asked, anxiously. "Don't you think I am improving?"

"Yes," returned the Master, dryly; "by next week you will be one
Paganini."

Stung by the sarcasm, Lynn went home, and after tea the group resolved
itself into its original elements. Herr Kaufmann and the Doctor sat in
their respective easy-chairs, conversing with each other by means of
silences, with here and there a word of comment, and Fraeulein Fredrika
was in the corner, silent, too, and yet overcome with admiration.

"That boy," said the Doctor, at length, "he has genius."

The crescent moon gleamed faintly against the sunset, and a wayworn
robin, with slow-beating wings, circled toward his nest in one of the
maples on the other side of the valley. The fragrant dusk sheltered the
little house, which all day had borne the heat of the sun.

"Possibly," said the Master, "but no heart, no feeling. He is all
technique."

There was another long pause. "His mother," observed the Doctor, "do
you know her?"

"No. I meet no women but mine sister."

"She is a lovely lady."

"So?"

It was evident that the Master had no interest in Margaret Irving, but
the Doctor still brooded upon the vision. She was different from anyone
else in East Lancaster, and he admired her very much.

"That boy," said the Doctor, again, "he has her eyes."

"Whose?"

"His mother's."

"So?"

The interval lengthened into an hour, and presently the kitchen clock
struck ten. "I shall go now," remarked the Doctor, rising.

"Not yet," said the Master. "Come!"

They went downstairs together, into the shop. It had happened before,
though rarely, and the Doctor suspected that he was about to receive the
greatest possible kindness from his friend's hands. Herr Kaufmann
disappeared into his bedroom and was gone a long time.

The room was dark, and the Doctor did not dare to move for fear of
stepping upon some of the wood destined for violins. A cricket in the
corner sang cheerily and ceased suddenly in the middle of a chirp when
the Master came back with a light