In a few
minutes I received my expected introduction to Mr. Preston, and I found
that underneath the repelling austerity of his expression, was a kindly
spark for youth, and a decided sympathy for all instances of manly
endeavor if only it was in a direction he approved; further that my own
personality was agreeable to him and that he was disposed to regard me
with favor until by some chance and very natural allusion to my
profession by the friend standing between us, he learned that I was a
musician, when a decided change came over his countenance and he
exclaimed in that blunt, decisive way of his that admits of no reply:

"A jingler on the piano, eh? Pretty poor use for a man to put his brains
to, I say, or even his fingers. Sorry to hear we cannot be friends." And
without waiting for a reply, took my introducer by the arm and drew him
a step or so to one side. "Why didn't you say at once he was Mandeville
the musician," I overheard him ask in somewhat querulous tones. "Don't
you know I consider the whole race of them an abomination. I would have
more respect for my bank clerk than I would for the greatest man of them
all, were it Rubenstein himself." Then in a lower tone but distinctly
and almost as if he meant me to hear, "My daughter has a leaning towards
this same fol-de-rol and has lately requested my permission to make the
acquaintance of some musical characters, but I soon convinced her that
manhood under the disguise of a harlequin's jacket could have no
interest for her; that when a human being, man or woman has sunk to be a
mere rattler of sweet sounds, he has reached a stage of infantile
development that has little in common with the nervous energy and
business force of her Dutch ancestry. And my daughter stoops to make no
acquaintances she cannot bid sit at her father's table."

"Your daughter is a child yet, I thought," was ventured by his
companion.

"Miss Preston is sixteen, just the age at which my mother gave her hand
to my respected father sixty-seven years ago." And with this drop of
burning lead let fall into my already agitated bosom they passed on.

He would have more respect for his bank clerk! Would his bank clerk or
what was better, a young man with means at his command, working in a
business capacity more in consonance with the tastes he had evinced,
have a chance of winning his daughter? I began to think he might. "The
way grows clearer!" I exclaimed.

But it was not till after another