ng himself--and so have I."

"HE has done it!"

"Yes. It was at his home last Thanksgiving. It was then that he found
out--about my improvising."

"Oh-h!" Marie's eyes were wistful. "And he cares so much now for your
music!"

"Does he? Do you think he does?" demanded Billy.

"I know he does--and for the one who makes it, too."

"Nonsense!" laughed Billy, with pinker cheeks. "It's the music, not the
musician, that pleases him. Mr. Cyril doesn't like women."

"He doesn't like women!"

"No. But don't look so shocked, my dear. Every one who knows Mr. Cyril
knows that."

"But I don't think--I believe it," demurred Marie, gazing straight into
Billy's eyes. "I'm sure I don't believe it."

Under the little music teacher's steady gaze Billy flushed again. The
laugh she gave was an embarrassed one, but through it vibrated a pleased
ring.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet and moving restlessly
about the room. With the next breath she had changed the subject to one
far removed from Mr. Cyril and his likes and dislikes.

Some time later Billy played, and it was then that Marie drew a long
sigh.

"How beautiful it must be to play--like that," she breathed.

"As if you, a music teacher, could not play!" laughed Billy.

"Not like that, dear. You know it is not like that."

Billy frowned.

"But you are so accurate, Marie, and you can read at sight so rapidly!"

"Oh, yes, like a little machine, I know!" scorned the usually gentle
Marie, bitterly. "Don't they have a thing of metal that adds figures
like magic? Well, I'm like that. I see g and I play g; I see d and I
play d; I see f and I play f; and after I've seen enough g's and d's and
f's and played them all, the thing is done. I've played."

"Why, Marie! Marie, my dear!" The second exclamation was very tender,
for Marie was crying.

"There! I knew I should some day have it out--all out," sobbed Marie. "I
felt it coming."

"Then perhaps you'll--you'll feel better now," stammered Billy. She
tried to say more--other words that would have been a real comfort; but
her tongue refused to speak them. She knew so well, so woefully well,
how very wooden and mechanical the little music teacher's playing
always had been. But that Marie should realize it herself like this--the
tragedy of it made Billy's heart ache. At Marie's next words, however,
Billy caught her breath in surprise.

"But you see it wasn't music--it wasn't ever music that I wanted--to