ere to be seen at all sorts of
odd hours, and alas, still more surely to be _heard_! For a while his
mother thought it best not to interfere, she did not wish to check his
ardour, and the second and third lessons went off, as far as she could
judge, very well. But gradually the violin grew less talkative--a day,
then a couple of days, then even longer, passed without its voice being
heard, and one day, towards the close of the fifth or sixth lesson, Lady
Iltyd, going into the room, saw a look she knew too well on her little
son's face. He flung down the violin and turned to Herr Wildermann--

"I _can't_ play any more--nasty thing--I believe it's got a bad fairy
inside it," he said, half in fun, half in petulance.

"Why, Basil----" began his mother, but her glance happening at the
moment to fall on the young German, she stopped short, startled at the
look of intense distress that overspread his features. "He thinks I
shall blame _him_, poor fellow," she thought, and, with her quick
kindliness, she tried, indirectly, to reassure him.

"Don't look so grave about this silly little boy, Herr Wildermann," she
said brightly. "Suppose you drive away the bad fairy by playing to us,
and let lazy Basil rest a little."

Basil's face, which had clouded over at the beginning of this speech,
brightened up again. He flung himself down on the rug with the air of
one intending to enjoy himself. And for the next ten minutes or so not a
sound was heard but the exquisite tones of the master's violin,
thrilling with intensity, then warbling like a bird in the joyous
spring-time, bringing the tears to the boy's eyes with its tender
pathos, and then flushing his cheeks with excitement, till at last they
died away in the distance as it were, as if returning to the enchanted
land from whence they came.

Basil gave a deep sigh.

"Ah," he said, in a low voice, "to play like _that_----"

Herr Wildermann's face lighted up.

"He _has_ it--he loves it so much, madame," he said half apologetically
to Lady Iltyd.

"Yes," she said, but her tone was rather grave. "But it is not enough to
love it. He must learn not to be so easily discouraged. You know, my
boy, what I said to you at the beginning," she went on, turning to
Basil, "it is not a _necessity_ to learn the violin. I would rather you
gave it up than make it a worry and vexation to yourself and others."

Basil stopped her with a kiss.

"It's only when the bad fairy comes," he said. "Do