The tone was an emphatic one, and the speaker pounded sharply on the floor with his walking stick.
He was a small boy, whose flaxen hair hung straight and thick on either side of his face. He was panting with excitement, his eyes were sparkling, his lips were set.
Before him, on the floor, sat six boys and girls in a semi-circle, attending earnestly to his commands. One boy possessed a toy horn; two others, mouth organs; a fourth, a chubby girl, had dropped a tin fife in sheer fright; and the fifth and sixth clung to drum and dinner-bell respectively.
[Pg 93]
"This time," went on the conductor sternly, "I want you to begin when I bring my cane down. Now watch! One, two, three, four,—one!"
As the big baton descended with the leader's vehement "one," a deafening uproar burst from the obedient orchestra.
"Keep on, keep on! You're going it now! Slower, Frieda! One, two, three, four!"
The director swung his cane vigorously, shouting his orders above the strains of the lusty symphony. A few measures were bravely rendered, when the conductor suddenly threw down his stick with a look of extreme exasperation.
"Peter," he said quietly, in the tone of a teacher sorely tried but patient, "please don't jingle the bell. Take the clapper in your hand, and tap it when I say 'one' and 'three.' Like this!" and seizing the bell, he illustrated his meaning, compelling the fat offender to perform the feat to his satisfaction [Pg 94]before going on with the rehearsal. When the bell-ringer had been sufficiently drilled, the director once again took up his baton and ordered a fresh beginning.
They were playing in good earnest, for this imperious conductor desired something far above the discordant blasts that are usually obtained from musical toys. Weeks before he had assigned to each playmate a certain instrument, teaching him in private to draw real melody from it; and to-day he had assembled the six performers in his bedroom, introducing them to the delight of joining together in a familiar musical theme.
To be sure, the toys were shrill and piping, the players often faulty and careless, but after an hour's persistent and perspiring labor on the part of all concerned, the Duke's Military March rang through the house in creditable time and tune.
While the music continued with true martial spirit, the door opened softly,[Pg 95] and a plump, fair girl of sixteen peeped into the room. Perceiving the occupation of the children, she smiled brightly and slipped away. A moment later another form appeared upon the threshold, that of an elderly, dignified man. His hair was white, his eyes were protected by huge gold spectacles, his shoulders were slightly bent; but a close observer would have readily detected a resemblance between the handsome old gentleman and the leader of the orchestra. One bore the markings of age, the other the dimples of childhood; but they plainly displayed a kindred will, energy, and intelligence, although one was seventy and the other but seven.
Mr. H?ndel was the town surgeon of Halle, appointed by the Duke of S?chse, and the flaxen-haired boy was the idolized child of his declining years.
At first sight of the juvenile orchestra the visitor smiled as indulgently as had the girl before him, entering the [Pg 96]chamber unobserved, and seating himself in a distant corner where he could watch the highly interesting performance. But he turned quickly grave when his eye fell upon the small director, who was bending anxiously forward, his whole being absorbed in the sounds that issued from the toys at signal of his cane. The flush that burned the leader's cheek, the intensity of his glance, and the strained alertness of his lithe young body, seemed a forbidding vision to the old gentleman, for his face clouded and he shook his head in increasing disapproval.
Presently the concert ended, the children scrambled noisily to their feet, and the conductor leaned upon his cane, regarding them with the serene composure of a man who has wrought successfully and is modestly proud of the fact.
"We must go home, Georg," said Peter, exchanging his bell for his cap.
"I'm going to run, 'cause I'm so dretful hungry," announced Frieda, [Pg 97]disappearing in quest of curds and seed cakes.
"You may all go now," consented the director affably, "but," raising a commanding finger, "we will practise again at seven o'clock to-morrow morning, and whoever is one minute late won't be invited to my party in the afternoon."
"Oh, Georg," wailed Frieda, recalled from the corridor by this edict, "must I come at seven, whether I've had any breakfast or not?"
The leader bowed.
"Whether you have had any breakfast or not," he rejoined firmly.
The children trooped down the stairs, leaving their chief to gather up the toys and place them carefully upon the table.
He was about to leave the room when, for the first time, he discovered that he was not alone.
"Father!" he exclaimed, bounding gladly to the old man's side, and laying one hand affectionately upon his shoulder.[Pg 98] "Did you hear us play? Didn't we do well? If only we had a fiddle we could make much better music. Oh, father, it is such fun—why—what's the matter, father? I sharpened your pens and aired your dressing-gown."
The boy's hilarious comments ceased as he became aware of his father's darkened expression, and he hastened to allay the doubts that he supposed to be the cause of this unlooked-for displeasure.
"I know, Georg, that you sharpened the pens, and I believe you when you tell me that you aired the dressing-gown, but I shall give you a new duty to-day. See that you perform it promptly!"
Georg listened in wonder, for never before had his father addressed him with such hardness of manner, and instinctively the boy drew a pace backward.
"A new—duty?" he stammered.
"I want you to take those musical toys and throw them into the pond, or give them to some one who never comes into this house."
[Pg 99]
Georg was dumfounded.
"Throw them away—my trumpet, my fife, my—"
Breathless with consternation the boy rushed to the table and gathered his treasures protectingly in his arms.
"These—I must—keep," he asserted chokingly, eying his father from the breastworks of drum and bell.
For answer Mr. H?ndel pointed to the door, and Georg, reading naught but doom in that significant gesture, dropped his toys with a crash and clasped his father's arm beseechingly.
"Father, don't make me throw them in the pond! Tell me why it is wrong for me to have them; please, father, tell me!"
The old gentleman's face expressed both resolution and kindness.
"Listen, Georg. When I gave you those toys at Christmas time, I expected you to amuse yourself with them as other children do, in turn with balls, kites, and sleds. But this you have[Pg 100] failed to do, and every play-hour since that time you have given to these musical toys. Now, Georg, I mean to give you a thorough education, so that when you are a man you may become a jurist, capable of following a respectable career and earning a snug fortune. Ever since you were born I have planned and saved for this purpose, and I cannot have my arrangements upset by these silly mouth organs. Tut, tut!" as the boy endeavored to speak, "no words, my son, over this matter! If I allow you to keep these things and play with them, day in and day out, as you have been doing, you will grow into a musician, and then where will my jurist be? No, no, it is not to be thought of. When I came in to-day, you were so deep in the Duke's March that you did not know that I was near. No, boy, you cannot have them any longer. I would have taken them away before, had I realized that you were so set upon them."
[Pg 101]
"Please, father—" whispered Georg, quaking, but persistent.
"You must either throw them away or give them away to-day. You shall have an hour to decide which you wish to do, and at the end of it, I shall expect the matter to be settled for all time. Also, Georg, I wish you to see no more of four of those children who were here to-day. Frieda and Peter seemed dull enough, but the others were too musical by far to be fit companions for you. You may tell them that I forbid them the house from to-day."
At this stroke of fate, Georg threw himself at full length on the floor, sobbing tempestuously. His father departed without further parley, and the boy was left alone to battle with his disappointment.
As the hour drew to a close, he mastered his emotion as well as he was able, washed from his face the traces of weeping, and hurried out to call a meeting of his orchestra by the pond-side.
[Pg 102]
He would not confess to his mates that he was grieved with the message he had for them, but delivered it with an air of mannish bravado.
"I shan't have an orchestra any more, and I have brought you all of my instruments. I'll give you each the one you've been using, so you can play hereafter. You needn't come to-morrow to rehearse, for I can't lead any longer."
"No orchestra! You won't lead!" chorused the musicians blankly, as they received the cherished toys into their hands.
"Never again," affirmed Georg loftily, but he must needs set his teeth hard upon his lower lip, lest its trembling should betray his stinging regret.
"You see," he explained with the easy patronage of a captain who has led his troops to victory, but who is about to be promoted out of their midst, "it is not as though I were to be a musician when I grow up. It is all well enough for you[Pg 103] fellows to play on these things every day, but I really ought not to waste my time with them, for," importantly, "when I am a man, I am going to be a jurist."
"A what?" demanded his hearers in one breath, much impressed by the high-sounding title.
"A jurist," Georg repeated, folding his arms, much gratified at the effect his announcement had produced.
"What does a—a jurist do?" inquired Frieda, feminine curiosity conquering her awe.
"Oh," replied Georg easily, "a jurist, Frieda, writes down in a book everything that people ought to do, and when they don't do just as he has written, he cuts off their heads."
"Ach!"
"Their heads?"
"You will learn to cut them off?"
Georg bowed.
"Now you understand why I must give up the orchestra. If you decide to[Pg 104] keep on without me, perhaps, sometime—"
He was turning away with a kingly wave of the hand, his last sentence unfinished, when a question from Peter recalled him to the second and most distressing part of his mission.
"You'll have your party to-morrow afternoon? We needn't play on things, you know."
The blood mounted to Georg's forehead, and his fingers twitched uncomfortably; but he managed to speak so boldly that his listeners were quite unaware of his struggle.
"I am glad you mentioned the party, Peter, for I had nearly forgotten it. No, I won't have any party, and I must tell you—at least, father says—that—that Hans and Otto and Gretchen and Leopold must not come to my house any more. Of course," he added hastily, seeking to drown the gasps of his troopers, "it isn't that you're not good enough and nice enough for me to play[Pg 105] with, but father says that you four are very musical, and you might make me musical too; but Frieda and Peter can come, for they are dull."
"I hate your old tunes and notes, anyway," protested Peter, much injured; but Frieda cut him short with the excited proposal,—
"Let's have your party for Peter and me and you, to-morrow!"
"Have your party! Have your party!" sneered Otto; and Hans informed Georg in biting tones that he wouldn't forget this when his birthday came next month.
Here Georg visibly weakened, for he remembered that Hans was expecting either a violin or a flute upon that occasion, and he nearly lost his studied indifference with the recollection. He was obliged to face about, to hide the sudden teardrops that glistened on his cheeks; and, marching proudly toward his father's pasture, with head high in air, and back steadily kept[Pg 106] toward his forsaken band, he called out,—
"I'm not mad at you, but you can be mad at me if you like. I won't have a party to-morrow for Frieda and Peter, 'cause I like Hans and Otto better than I do them, 'cause they know how to keep time when I beat."
He had reached the pasture with the last word of parting, and flinging himself over the bars, he fled across the green as though twenty scouts of the enemy were close upon his heels. The mask that he had worn to conceal his heartburning had fallen, and he was crying bitterly as he ran.
Old Kappelstahr, Georg's special pet since the days when she was a sportive calf, stood mildly chewing her cud near the inner fence. As her master dashed among the kine in evident agitation, the heifer turned to look after him, apparently surprised that he had passed her by without a word of greeting.
Georg, glancing backward, happened[Pg 107] to catch that look of gentle interest. He halted irresolutely, then, rushing to her side and throwing his arms about her neck, the dejected jurist sobbed out his woe upon her warm brown shoulder.
During the succeeding days and weeks, Georg felt as lonely as a shipwrecked mariner cast upon a deserted island of the sea. Instinctively, when lessons were done, he reached out for amusement to the musical toys that were his no longer. Sometimes he heard sounds arising from the pond-side, where his forbidden orchestra rehearsed under Otto's direction. That he might neither make music nor mingle with those who did, filled him with blank dismay; and hour by hour he wandered about the house and garden, unable to attach himself to other interests or games. His father required him to make an industrious use of his school hours, even adding to the regular course certain studies that he deemed useful to one preparing for a serious profession.
[Pg 108]
The old gentleman was sorry indeed when he saw how the absence of the musical toys and companions affected Georg, and he even sought to modify the discipline by presenting to the boy a complete set of carpenter's tools.
Georg thanked him for the gift, but what was the old gentleman's surprise, a week later, upon seeing the chest in his son's room, still unopened, with every tool in place, and across the wooden lid a series of black and white keys painted, in imitation of a harpsichord.
Mr. H?ndel frowned, but made no reference to the matter before Georg.
Mrs. H?ndel believed that her husband was right at all times, and would not have reversed his decision regarding the musical affair, if she could; but her sister Anna, the plump fair girl who had peeped in upon the last rehearsal of the orchestra in Georg's room, sympathized warmly with the boy, and sought to console him in every way possible.
Anna was barely sixteen, herself[Pg 109] scarcely more than a child, blue-eyed, yellow-haired, and a member of the H?ndel household. Her sweet temper and merry heart had long before won Georg's devotion, and in his present trial no one was admitted to his confidence but this youthful aunt.
Never a word of disrespect or rebellion did Anna utter against Mr. H?ndel, for she believed implicitly in a child's obedience to his parents; but, being of a musical temperament herself, she entered into the boy's trouble as though she, too, were under the ban. In a certain sense she was, there being no musical instrument in the house, and often she felt stirred by the same impulse that wrought so constantly upon her nephew.
"Never mind, Georg," she would say, "let Hans and Frieda have the mouth organ and the drum. Just you attend to your school, and when your father sees that you mean to study hard and carry out his wishes, he will give them back to you."
[Pg 110]
But weeks dragged wearily by, and, despite Georg's diligence at school, Mr. H?ndel did not relent. Frieda and Peter came occasionally, but they had never been Georg's chosen comrades, and he joined their games mechanically, plainly relieved when they took their departure. He longed unceasingly for Otto, who was clever with the trumpet, and for Hans, who was now the possessor of a violin.
He became restless and dissatisfied, and his mother despaired of a child who went about with such a sober face.
He never gave voice to the discontent that surged in his breast, for parental authority was strict in the H?ndel household, and he would have been sharply punished for outspoken protest. But he did not recover from his disappointment, as his father had so reasonably expected; a slight paleness crept over his plump cheeks, his lively spirit was tinged with melancholy, and from his compressed lips was seldom heard his former ringing laugh.
[Pg 111]
Every one in the house noticed the change, but all except Anna thought the mood would presently pass away if properly ignored, and no mention was made in his hearing of the subject that lay nearest his heart. The girl, however, realized that Georg was seriously unhappy, and right heartily did she try to divert him from his consuming desire.
One November afternoon, as Georg sat studying before the sitting-room fire with his mother, who had fallen asleep over her knitting, his attention was attracted by a pebble being thrown against the window. Raising his eyes, he beheld his aunt beckoning to him from the garden. Down went the book and out went the boy.
"What is it, Aunt Anna?"
For answer, the girl caught him about the neck and whirled him madly up and down the gravelled path.
"It's a secret, Georg, the best and biggest secret in the whole world. Nobody is to know it but you and me, and[Pg 112] it is so lovely that I can't keep from spinning like a top!"
"Wait! Stop! Let loose!" and the boy broke from her clasp, half-strangled by the joyful energy of her arm. "What is the secret? Hurry and tell!"
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