“But when the first pang of such a pain is over, there remains the comfort of being a listener.  At first one does not think it is a comfort; but as time goes on there is no resisting its magic influence.  And Lowell said rightly that ‘one of God’s great charities is music.’”

“I did not know you were musical, Mr. Keith,” said an English lady.  “You have never before spoken of music.”

“Perhaps not, madam,” he answered.  “One does not often speak of what one cares for most of all.  But when I am in London I rarely miss hearing our best players.”

At this point others joined in, and the various merits of eminent pianists were warmly discussed.

“What a wonderful name that little English lady has made for herself!” said the major, who was considered an authority on all subjects.  “I would go anywhere to hear Miss Thyra Flowerdew.  We all ought to be very proud of her.  She has taken even the German musical world by storm, and they say her recitals at Paris have been brilliantly successful.  I myself have heard her at New York, Leipsic, London, Berlin, and even Chicago.”

The little girl stirred uneasily in her chair.

“I don’t think Miss Flowerdew has ever been to Chicago,” she said.

There was a dead silence.  The admirer of Miss Thyra Flowerdew looked much annoyed, and twiddled his watch-chain.  He had meant to say “Philadelphia,” but he did not think it necessary to own to his mistake.

“What impertinence!” said one of the ladies to Miss Blake.  “What can she know about it?  Is she not the young person who tuned the piano?”

“Perhaps she tunes Miss Thyra Flowerdew’s piano!” suggested Miss Blake, in a loud whisper.

“You are right, madam,” said the little girl, quietly.  “I have often tuned Miss Flowerdew’s piano.”

There was another embarrassing silence; and then a lovely old lady, whom every one reverenced, came to the rescue.

“I think her playing is simply superb,” she said.  “Nothing that I ever hear satisfies me so entirely.  She has all the tenderness of an angel’s touch.”

“Listening to her,” said the major, who had now recovered from his annoyance at being interrupted, “one becomes unconscious of her presence, for she is the music itself.  And that is rare.  It is but seldom nowadays that we are allowed to forget the personality of the player.  And yet her personality is an unusual one; having once seen her, it would not be easy to forget her.  I should recognise her anywhere.”

As he spoke, he glanced at the little tuner, and could not help admiring her dignified composure under circumstances which might have been distressing to any one; and when she rose with the others he followed her, and said stiffly: 

“I regret that I was the indirect cause of putting you in an awkward position.”

“It is really of no consequence,” she said, brightly.  “If you think I was impertinent, I ask your forgiveness.  I did not mean to be officious.  The words were spoken before I was aware of them.”