CHAPTER II

STRAINS FROM NATHAN'S FLUTE



It was one of those Friday evenings, then, when
the smell of roast apples steeping in hot toddy came
wafting out the portals of Malachi's pantry--a smell
of such convincing pungency that even the most infrequent
of frequenters having once inhaled it, would
have known at the first whiff that some musical function
was in order. The night was to be one of unusual
interest.

Nathan Gill and Max linger were expected, and
Miss Lavinia Clendenning, completing with Richard
a quartette for 'cello, flute, piano, and violin, for
which Unger had arranged Beethoven's Overture to
"Fidelio."

Nathan, of course, arrived first. On ordinary occasions
another of those quaint ceremonies for which the
house was famous would always take place when the
old flute-player entered the drawing-room--a ceremony
which brought a smile to the lips of those who