Being thus solidly occupied, she had not much leisure to bestow on the
conversation of the other guests. Nor was it specially original; it
treated of the short-comings of the chef, the tastelessness of the
soup, the toughness of the beef, and all the many failings which go
to complete a mountain hotel dinner. But suddenly, so it seemed to the
little girl, this time-honoured talk passed into another phase; she
heard the word "music" mentioned, and she became at once interested to
learn what these people had to say on a subject which was dearer to her
than any other.

"For my own part," said a stern-looking old man, "I have no words to
describe what a gracious comfort music has been to me all my life. It is
the noblest language which man may understand and speak. And I sometimes
think that those who know it, or know something of it, are able at rare
moments to find an answer to life's perplexing problems."

The little girl looked up from her plate. Robert Browning's words rose
to her lips, but she did not give them utterance:

God has a few of us whom He whispers in the ear;
The rest may reason, and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.

"I have lived through a long life," said another elderly man, "and have
therefore had my share of trouble; but the grief of being obliged to
give up music was the grief which held me longest, or which perhaps has
never left me. I still crave for the gracious pleasure of touching once
more the strings of the violoncello, and hearing the dear, tender voice
singing and throbbing, and answering even to such poor skill as mine.
I still yearn to take my part in concerted music, and be one of those
privileged to play Beethoven's string-quartettes. But that will have to