before I go into the meeting."

His father took the 'cello, and after a few moments spent in carefully
tuning up, began with Handel's immortal Largo, then he wandered into
the Adagio Movement in Haydn's third Sonata, from thence to Schubert's
Impromptu in C Minor, after which he began the Serenade, when he was
checked by his son.

"No, not that, dad, that's sickening. I consider that the most morally
relaxing bit of music that I know. It frays the whole moral fibre. Give
us one of Chopin's Ballades, or better still a bit of that posthumous
Fantasie Impromptu, the largo movement. Ah! fine! fine!"

He flung his dish-cloth aside, ran to the piano and began an
accompaniment to his father's playing.

"Now, dad, the Largo once more before we close." They did the Largo once
and again, then springing from the piano Barry cried: "That Largo is
a means of grace to me. There could be no better preparation for a
religious meeting than that. If you would only come in and play for
them, it would do them much more good than all my preaching."

"If you would only take your music seriously, Barry," replied his
father, somewhat sadly, "you would become a good player, perhaps even a
great player."

"And then what, dad?"

His father waved him aside, putting up his 'cello.