It was the first time, in recent months, that Mildred had heard Veda play, and she was delighted with the effect. The musical part she wasn’t quite sure about, except that it made a fine noisy clatter. But there could be no mistaking the authoritative way in which Veda kept lifting her right hand high in the air, or the style with which she crossed her left hand over it. The piece kept mounting to a rousing noisy climax, and then inexplicably it faltered. Veda struck a petulant chord. “I always want to play it that way. ”

“I’ll tell Mr. Rachmaninoff when I see him. ”

Mr. Hannen was slightly ironical about it, but his brows knit, and he began eyeing Veda sharply. Veda, a little chastened, finished. He made no comment, but got up, found a piece of music, and put it in front of her. “Let’s try the sightreading. ”

Veda rattled through this piece like a human pianola, while Mr. Hannen alternately screwed up his face as though he were in great pain, and stared hard at her. When silence mercifully stole into the room, he walked over to the shelves again, got out a violin case, set it beside Mildred, opened it, and began to resin the bow. “Let’s try the accompanying. What’s your name again? ”

“Miss Pierce. ”

“Ah—?”

“Veda. ”

“Have you ever accompanied, Veda? ”

“Just a little. ”

“Just a little, what? ”

“—I beg your pardon? ”

“I might warn you, Veda, that with young pupils I mix quite a general instruction, in with the musical. Now if you don’t want a clip on the ear, you’ll call me sir. ”

“Yes sir. ”

Mildred wanted to kick up her heels and laugh at a Veda who was suddenly meek and humble. However, she affected not to be listening, and fingered the silk of Mr. Hannen’s violin cover as though it was the most interesting piece of sewing she had ever seen. He picked up the violin now, and turned to Veda. “This isn’t my instrument, but there must be something for you to accompany, so it’ll have to do. Sound your A. ”

Veda tapped a note, he tuned the violin, and set a piece of music on the piano. “All right—a little briskly. Don’t drag it. ”

Veda looked blankly at the music. “Why—you’ve given me the violin part. ”

“ —? ”

“Sir. ”

“Ah, so I have. ”

He looked on the shelves for a moment, then shook his head. “Well, the piano part’s around somewhere, but I don’t seem to see it at the moment. All right, keep the violin part in front of you and give me a little accompaniment of your own. Let’s see—you have four measures before I come in. Count the last one aloud. ”

“Sir, I wouldn’t even know how to—”

“Begin. ”

After a desperate look at the music, Veda played a long, faltering figure that ended somewhere up in the tinkle notes. Then, thumping a heavy bass, she counted: “One, two, three, four and—”

Even Mildred could detect that the violin was certainly not Mr. Hannen’s instrument. But Veda kept up her bass, and when he stopped, she repeated the long figure, thumped her bass, counted, and he came in again. This went on for a short time, but little by little, Mildred thought, it was getting smoother. Once, when Mr. Hannen stopped, Veda omitted the long figure. In its place, she repeated the last part of the air he had been playing, so that when he came in again it joined up quite neatly. When they finished, Mr. Hannen put the violin away and resumed staring at Veda. Then: “Where did you study harmony? ”

“I never studied harmony, sir. ”

“H’m. ”