“Must be some bear!” interjected the boy.

“That’s what it is,” put in the President.  “Regular cinnamon-brown type”—­and then off went the talk to the big bear at the Washington “Zoo” where the President was to send the boy.

Then, after a little; “Now, Curtis, see those men over there in that room.  They’ve travelled from all parts of the country to come here at my invitation, and I’ve got to make a little speech to them, and I’ll do that while you go off to see the bear.”

And then the hand came forth to say good-by.  The boy put his in it, each looked into the other’s face, and on neither was there a place big enough to put a ten-cent piece that was not wreathed in smiles.  “He certainly is all right,” said the boy to the father, looking wistfully after the President.

Almost to the other room had the President gone when he, too, instinctively looked back to find the boy following him with his eyes.  He stopped, wheeled around, and then the two instinctively sought each other again.  The President came back, the boy went forward.  This time each held out both hands, and as each looked once more into the other’s eyes a world of complete understanding was in both faces, and every looker-on smiled with them.

“Good-by, Curtis,” came at last from the President.

“Good-by, Mr. President,” came from the boy.  Then, with another pump-handly shake and with a “Gee, but he’s great, all right!” the boy went out to see the cinnamon-bear at the “Zoo,” and to live it all over in the days to come.

Two boy-hearts had met, although one of them belonged to the President of the United States.

CHAPTER XVIII

ADVENTURES IN MUSIC

One of the misfortunes of Edward Bok’s training, which he realized more clearly as time went on, was that music had little or no place in his life.  His mother did not play; and aside from the fact that his father and mother were patrons of the opera during their residence in The Netherlands, the musical atmosphere was lacking in his home.  He realized how welcome an outlet music might be in his now busy life.  So what he lacked himself and realized as a distinct omission in his own life he decided to make possible for others.

The Ladies’ Home Journal began to strike a definite musical note.  It first caught the eye and ear of its public by presenting the popular new marches by John Philip Sousa; and when the comic opera of “Robin Hood” became the favorite of the day, it secured all the new compositions by Reginald de Koven.  Following these, it introduced its readers to new compositions by Sir Arthur Sullivan, Tosti, Moszkowski, Richard Strauss, Paderewski, Josef Hofmann, Edouard Strauss, and Mascagni.  Bok induced Josef Hofmann to give a series of piano lessons in his magazine, and Madame Marchesi a series of vocal lessons. The Journal introduced its readers to all the great instrumental and vocal artists of the day through articles; it offered prizes for the best piano and vocal compositions; it had the leading critics of New York, Boston, and Chicago write articles explanatory of orchestral music and how to listen to music.