the difference. Sometimes his uneasiness lasted for days together.
But when the story came complete at last--and this always sprang on
him quite suddenly--he wanted to caper and fling his arms about and
sing aloud; and did so, if nobody happened to be looking.

The bandmaster, too, had music, and a reputation for imparting it.
Famous regimental bands contained pupils of his; and his old pupils,
when they met, usually told each other stories of his atrocious
temper. But he kept his temper to-night, for his youngsters were
playing well, and the small crowd standing quiet.

The English melodies had scarcely closed with "Come, lasses and
lads," when across in Mayoralty a blind was drawn, and a window
thrown open, and Taffy saw the warm room within, and the officers and
ladies standing with glasses in their hands. The Colonel was giving
the one toast of the evening:

"Ladies and gentlemen--The Queen!"

The adjutant leaned out and lifted his hand for signal, and the band
crashed out with the National Anthem. Then there was silence for a
minute. The window remained open. Taffy still caught glimpses of
jewels and uniforms, and white necks bending, and men leaning back in
their chairs, with their mess-jackets open, and the candle-light
flashing on their shirt-fronts. Below, in the dark street, the
bandmaster trimmed the lamp by his music-stand. In the rays of it he
drew out a handkerchief and polished the keys of his cornet; then
passed the cornet over to his left hand, took up his baton, and
nodded.