The Doctor immediately began talking to him about flutes and
piccolos and bassoons; and presently my father said,

"Perhaps you perform upon the flute yourself, Sir. Won't you
play us a tune?"

"Well," said the Doctor, "it is a long time since I touched the
instrument. But I would like to try. May I?"

Then the Doctor took the flute from my father and played and
played and played. It was wonderful. My mother and father sat
as still as statues, staring up at the ceiling as though they
were in church; and even I, who didn't bother much about music
except on the mouth-organ--even I felt all sad and cold and
creepy and wished I had been a better boy.

"Oh I think that was just beautiful!" sighed my mother when at
length the Doctor stopped.

"You are a great musician, Sir," said my father, "a very great
musician. Won't you please play us something else?"

"Why certainly," said the Doctor--"Oh, but look here, I've
forgotten all about the squirrel."

"I'll show him to you," I said. "He is upstairs in my room."

So I led the Doctor to my bedroom at the top of the house and
showed him the squirrel in the packing-case filled with straw.