musical evenings! And the teacher often played the guitar with them
_extempore_. It was just like a concert.

DOMINIE. Indeed! that must have been very fine. Now, Miss, I beg--

FATIMA. But, mamma, just say what I shall play.

DOMINIE. Is not your teacher here this evening? He will know best.

AUNT (_whispers to Dominie_). He is busy this evening, composing some
grand bravoura variations, which are to be dedicated to Fatima on her
eighteenth birthday, the day after to-morrow. You must come to see us on
that day. Fatima will play them at sight.

MRS. N. Fatima, don't hold back any longer. Play "The Huguenots" by
Thalberg: that's a very fine piece.

DOMINIE. Pray do! I have not heard it since I heard Thalberg play it.

AUNT (_to Dominie_). Don't you make your daughters play it then? Oh,
that magnificent choral! That brings tears to my eyes! But the dear
child always takes it too fast: her fingers run away with her.

MRS. N. Here it is. Please turn round so that you can see her hands, Mr.
Dominie. You are such a famous teacher, perhaps you can make some
suggestions. (_I was expected only to admire._)

DOMINIE. I don't like to disturb her freedom in playing; but I will turn
round, if you say so.