carefully joined the parts. This done, he gave a look
into the hall-mirror, puffed out his scarf, combed
his straight white hair forward over his ears with
his fingers, and at Malachi's announcement glided
through the open doorway to Mrs. Horn's chair, the
flute in his hand held straight out as an orator would
have held his roll.

The hostess, who had been sitting by the fire, her
white gossamer shawl about her spare shoulders, rose
from her high-backed chair and, laying aside her
knitting-needles and wools, greeted the musician with
as much cordiality--and it must be confessed with
as much ceremony--as if she had not seen him a
dozen times that week. One of the charms of the
Horn mansion lay in these delightful blendings of
affection and formality.

"Am I a little early?" he asked with as much
surprise as if he were not as certain to be early
when music was concerned as he was to be late in
everything else. "Yes, my dear madam--I see that
I am early, unless Miss Lavinia is late."

"You never could be too early, Nathan. Lavinia
will be here in a moment," she answered, with a
smile, resuming her seat.

"I'm glad that I'm ahead of her for once," he
replied, laughing. Then, turning to the inventor,