Mr. Francis did not attend piano recitals, nor the meetings of the Browning Club.  Mrs. Francis was often deeply grieved with James for his indifference in regard to these matters.  But the musical sense in James continued to slumber and sleep.

The piano recital by Professor Welsman was given under the auspices of the Ladies’ Aid of the Methodist Church, the proceeds to be given toward defraying the cost of the repairs on the parsonage.

The professor was to be assisted by local talent, it said on the programmes.  Pearl was a little bit disappointed about the programmes.  She had told Danny that there would be a chairman who would say:  “I see the first item on this here programme is remarks by the chair, but as yez all know I ain’t no hand at makin’ a speech we’ll pass on to the next item.”  But there was not a sign of a chairman, not even a chair.  The people just came up themselves, without anybody telling them, and did their piece and went back.  It looked sort of bold to Pearl.

First the choir came in and sang:  “Praise Waiteth for Thee, O Lord, in Zion.”  Pearl did not like the way they treated her friend Dr. Clay.  Twice when he began to sing a little piece by himself, doing all right, too, two or three of them broke in on him and took the words right out of his mouth.  Pearl had seen people get slapped faces for things like that.  Pearl thought it just served them right when the doctor stopped singing and let them have it their own way.

When the professor came up the aisle everybody leaned forward to have a good look at him.  “He is just like folks only for his hair,” Pearl thought.  Pearl lifted Danny on her knee and told him to look alive now.  She knew what they were there for.

Then the professor began to play.  Indifferently at first after the manner of his kind, clever gymnastics to limber up his fingers perhaps, and perhaps to show how limber they are; runs and trills, brilliant execution, one hand after the other in mad pursuit, crossing over, back again, up and down in the vain endeavour to come up with the other hand; crescendo, diminuendo, trills again!

Danny yawned widely.

“When’s he goin’ to begin?” he asked, sleepily.

Mrs. Francis watched Danny eagerly.  The musical sense was liable to wake up any minute.  But it would have to hurry, for Daniel Mulcahey was liable to go to sleep any minute.

Pearl was disgusted with the professor and her thoughts fell into vulgar baseball slang: 

“Playin’ to the grand stand, ain’t ye? instead o’ gettin’ down to work.  That’ll do for ketch and toss.  Play the game!  Deliver the goods!”

Then the professor began the full arm chords with sudden fury, writhing upon the stool as he struck the angry notes from the piano.  Pearl’s indignation ran high.

“He’s lost his head—­he’s up in the air!” she shouted, but the words were lost in the clang of musical discords.