DOMINIE.  If that is so, Mrs. Spriggins, it seems to have agreed with her very well.

MRS. S. (vehemently).  But she would have been better—­

DOMINIE.  If she had not played at all?  That I can’t tell exactly, as I said yesterday.  Well, you are satisfied now with Emma’s state of health?

MRS. S. It is of no use to advise such people as you.

DOMINIE.  I have always devoted myself to my business as a teacher, and have daily taken counsel with myself about the education of my daughters, and of other pupils whom I have formed for artists; and, it must be acknowledged, I have done so with some ability.

MRS. S. (not attending to him, but turning to Emma).  But does it not make your fingers ache to play such difficult music?

DOMINIE.  Only when her teacher raps her on the knuckles, and that I never do.

     (Emma looks at the parrot which is hanging in the parlor, and
     strokes the great bull-dog.)

JOHN SPRIGGINS (entering with his daughter Lizzie).  Herr Dominie, will you be so good as to hear our daughter Lizzie play, and advise us whether to continue in the same course.  Music is, in fact, hereditary in our family.  My wife played a little, too, in her youth, and I once played on the violin; but my teacher told me I had no talent for it, no ear, and no idea of time, and that I scraped too much.

DOMINIE.  Very curious!  He must have been mistaken!

JOHN S. But I always was devotedly fond of music.  My father and my grandfather, on our estate, often used to play the organ for the organist in church, and the tenants always knew when they were playing.  My father used often to tell that story at table.  Ha, ha!  It was very droll!

DOMINIE.  Curious!

JOHN S. Well, to return to my violin.  I gave it up after a year, because it seemed rather scratchy to me, too.

DOMINIE.  Curious!  Probably your ear and your taste had become more cultivated.

JOHN S. Afterwards, when I accepted an office, my wife said to me, “My dear, what a pity it is about your violin.”  So I had it restrung, and took a teacher.  It seems as if it were only yesterday.

DOMINIE (casting down his eyes,—­the servant brings ice).  That was very curious!

JOHN S. But the government horn-player thought he could not get on in duets with me.

DOMINIE.  Curious!  So you were obliged to play only solos?  But to return to your daughter.  Will you be good enough to play me something, Miss Lizzie?

MRS. S. (condescendingly, in a low voice).  She is a little timid and embarrassed at playing before your daughter Emma.

EMMA.  You really need not be so.

MRS. S. Bring “Les Graces” by Herz, and Rosellen’s “Tremolo.”

LIZZIE.  But, mamma, I have forgotten that piece by Herz, and I have not learned the “Tremolo” very well yet.  That is always the way with me.  Mr. Shepard says I may console myself:  it was always the same with his other scholars.  He says I shall finally make my way.  But Mr. Shepard is so strict.  Are you very strict, Herr Dominie?