the only hope of his ever getting through school, and I believe they
secretly conspired with me to bring about the desired end. At any
rate, I know it became easier in each succeeding examination for me
not only to assist "Red," but absolutely to do his work. It is
strange how in some things honest people can be dishonest without the
slightest compunction. I knew boys at school who were too honorable
to tell a fib even when one would have been just the right thing, but
could not resist the temptation to assist or receive assistance in an
examination. I have long considered it the highest proof of honesty in
a man to hand his street-car fare to the conductor who had overlooked
it.

One afternoon after school, during my third term, I rushed home in a
great hurry to get my dinner and go to my music teacher's. I was never
reluctant about going there, but on this particular afternoon I
was impetuous. The reason of this was I had been asked to play the
accompaniment for a young lady who was to play a violin solo at a
concert given by the young people of the church, and on this
afternoon we were to have our first rehearsal. At that time playing
accompaniments was the only thing in music I did not enjoy; later this
feeling grew into positive dislike. I have never been a really good
accompanist because my ideas of interpretation were always too
strongly individual. I constantly forced my _accelerandos_ and
_rubatos_ upon the soloist, often throwing the duet entirely out of
gear.

Perhaps the reader has already guessed why I was so willing and
anxious to play the accompaniment to this violin solo; if not--the
violinist was a girl of seventeen or eighteen whom I had first heard
play a short time before on a Sunday afternoon at a special service