had. It takes courage to write that – and mean it – Molly, dear; but if we don’t make such resolves and stick to them, we will never amount to much, I fear.
“My first meeting with the Herr Professor will be within the next few days, and I am looking eagerly forward to the time. Aunt Betty says he has the dearest sort of a studio in a quiet part of the city, where he puts his pupils through a course of sprouts and brings out all the latent energy – or, temperament, I suppose you would call it.
“Well, Molly, dear, you must admit that this is a long letter for my first day home, especially when I am tired from the journey, and have stopped my dressing to write you. So don’t disappoint me, but write – or wire – that you are starting at once. Tell the dear Judge we hope his health has improved to such an extent that you will be free from all worry in the future. Remember us to your aunt, and don’t forget that your welcome at old Bellvieu is as everlasting as the days are long.
“There! I guess if that don’t bring Miss Molly Breckenridge to time, nothing will.”
Dorothy put the letter in a dainty, scented envelope, stamped and addressed it, and laid it on her dresser where she would be sure to carry it down to Ephraim when she had dressed.
An hour later, when the declining sun had disappeared behind the big hedge to the west of Bellvieu, and the lawn was filled with cool, deep shadows, Dorothy and Aunt Betty settled themselves in the open air for another chat.
CHAPTER III
DOROTHY MEETS HERR DEICHENBERG
The arrival of Herr Deichenberg at Bellvieu was looked forward to with breathless interest by Dorothy, and calm satisfaction by Aunt Betty, whose joy at seeing her girl so well pleased with the arrangements made for her studies, had been the means of reviving her spirits not a little, until she seemed almost like her old self.
The day following Dorothy’s return Ephraim was sent to the musician’s studio with a note from Mrs. Calvert, telling of the girl’s arrival, and suggesting that possibly the first meeting would be productive of better results if held at Bellvieu, where the girl would be free from embarrassment. Here, too, was a piano, the note stated, and Herr Deichenberg, who was also an expert on this instrument, might, if he desired, test Dorothy’s skill before taking up the work with her in earnest in his studio.
Ephraim returned in the late afternoon, bringing a written answer from the music master, in which he stated that it was contrary to his custom to visit the homes of his pupils, but that in the present instance, and under the existing circumstances, he would be glad to make an exception. He set the time of his visit at ten the following morning.
Dorothy awoke next day with a flutter of excitement. To her it seemed that the crucial moment of her life had come. If she were to fail – ! She crowded the thought from her mind, firmly resolved to master the instrument which is said by all great musicians to represent more thoroughly than any other mode of expression, the joys, hopes and passions of the human soul.
Breakfast over, with a feeling of contentment Dorothy stole up to her room to dress, the taste of Dinah’s coffee and hot biscuits still lingering in her mouth.
As the minutes passed she found herself wondering what Herr Deichenberg would look like. She conjured up all sorts of pictures of a stoop-shouldered little German, her final impression, however, resolving itself into an image of “The Music Master’s” hero, Herr Von Barwig.
Would he bring his violin? she wondered. It was a rare old Cremona, she had heard, with a tone so full and sweet as to dazzle the Herr’s audiences whenever they were so fortunate as to induce him to play.
Descending finally, arrayed in her prettiest gown, a dainty creation of lawn and lace, Dorothy found Aunt Betty awaiting her.
“Never have I seen you dress in better taste, my dear!” cried Mrs. Calvert, and the girl flushed with pleasure. “The Herr, as you have perhaps surmised, is a lover of simple things, both in the way of clothes and colors, and I am anxious that you shall make a good impression. He, himself, always dresses in black – linen during the warmer days, broadcloth in the winter. Everything about him in fact is simple – everything but his playing, which is wonderful, and truly inspired by genuine genius.”
“Stop, auntie, dear, or you will have me afraid to meet the Herr. After holding him up as such a paragon, is it any wonder I should feel as small and insignificant as a mouse?”
“Come, come, you are not so foolish!”
“Of course, I’m not, really – I was only joking,” and Dorothy’s laugh rang out over the lawn as they seated themselves on the gallery to await the arrival of the guest. “But I do feel a trembling sensation when I think that I am to meet the great Herr Deichenberg, of whom I have heard so much, yet seen so little.”
“There is nothing to tremble over, my dear – nothing at all. He is just like other men; very ordinary, and surely kind-hearted to all with whom he comes in contact.”
As they were discussing the matter, Jim and Ephraim came around the corner of the house, their hands full of fishing tackle.
“Well, Aunt Betty,” greeted the boy, “we’re off for the old Chesapeake to court the denizens of the deep, and I’m willing to wager we’ll have fish for breakfast to-morrow morning.”
He pulled off his broad-brimmed straw hat and mopped a perspiring brow.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” returned Aunt Betty. “Fish do not always bite when you want them to. I know, for I’ve tried it, many’s the time.”
“Mah Miss Betty suah uster be er good fisher-woman,” quoth Ephraim, a light of pride in his eyes. “I’ve seen her sot on de bank ob de Chesapeake, en cotch as many as ’leben fish in one hour. Big fellers, too – none ob yo’ lil’ cat-fish en perch. Golly! I suah ’members de time she hooked dat ole gar, en hollered fo’ help tuh pull ’im out. Den all de folks rush’ up en grab de line, en ole Mistah Gar jes’ done come up outen de watah like he’d been shot out ob er gun.”
Slapping his knees at the recollection, Ephraim guffawed loudly, and with such enthusiasm that Aunt Betty forgot her infirmities and joined in most heartily.
“The joke was on me that time, Ephy,” she finally said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “But we landed old ‘Mistah Gar,’ which I suppose was what we wanted after all.”
“Wish I might hook a gar to-day,” said Jim.
“En like as not yo’ will, chile, ’case dem gars is mighty plentiful in de bay. Hardly a day go by, but w’at two or t’ree ob ’em is yanked outen de sea, en lef’ tuh dry up on de bank.”
“Well, we’ll try our hand at one if possible. Good-by, Dorothy! Good-by, Aunt Betty. Have plenty of good things for lunch,” were Jim’s parting words, as he and Ephraim strode off down the path toward the gate. “We will be as hungry as bears when we get back, and I’m smacking my lips now in anticipation of what we’re going to have.”
“Go along!” said Aunt Betty. “You’re too much trouble. I’ll feed you on corn bread and molasses.” But she laughed heartily. It pleased her to see Jim enjoying himself. “Oh, maybe I’ll cook something nice for you,” she called after him – “something that will make your mouth water sure enough.”
“Yum yum! Tell me about it now,” cried Jim.
“No;
