CHAPTER VIIIREAL MUSIC
GUARD mount was over, and the Barlows with their guest were on their way back to their cottage. Gretel had enjoyed the morning very much. The soldiers, the bright music, and the crowds of people, had all combined to make the hour of guard mount a most delightful occasion. Then, too, she was beginning to find her new friends very entertaining. Geraldine chatted away incessantly, and Jerry, although much less talkative than his twin, was so amusing that Gretel had found herself laughing almost every time he opened his lips. Mr. and Mrs. Barlow had soon been joined by some acquaintances, and after that the children had been left pretty much to their own devices. Mr. Barlow kept a watchful eye upon the twins, but his wife became so much interested in her conversation with a friend, that she appeared to forget all about everything else. Gretel caught snatches of this conversation, in which the words“Montessori System”—“Law of Love” and “Wonderful Spiritual Experience” were frequently repeated.
It was when they were walking home from the fort that Geraldine suddenly remarked in a tone of regret—
“The parade was nice, wasn’t it? I’m rather sorry we wouldn’t let Miss Heath come.”
“Who is Miss Heath?” Gretel inquired with interest.
“She’s our teacher. Mother said we lost so much time having scarlet fever that we must have lessons down here, so she brought an old teacher along.”
“She isn’t old,” declared Jerry, in his hoarse little voice; “she’s real pretty, and I wanted you to let her come, but you said it was against rules.”
“Well, so it was,” maintained his sister. “You see,” she added, by way of explanation to Gretel, “when Mother said we had to take a teacher with us, we made an awful row. We said it wasn’t fair to have to study when we weren’t in New York, so at last Mother made a compromise. She said if we promised to study for two hours every day, we could have all the rest of the time to ourselves. We needn’t even see the old teacher if we didn’t want to, and shewasn’t to interfere in anything we did. So when Miss Heath came, we explained things to her, and made her sign a paper we wrote out.”
“Did she mind?” Gretel asked. She was thinking that Miss Talcott might have rather enjoyed such an arrangement.
“No; I don’t think so; she laughed a good deal, and said we were funny kiddies. She told Mother she would be glad of the extra time, because she wanted to study her music. She offered to give us music lessons, but that was something we wouldn’t stand. Arithmetic and history are bad enough, but music! Oh, my goodness!”
“Don’t you love music?” inquired Gretel in astonishment.
“Not much, at least not the kind Miss Heath plays. I like the music at dancing-school pretty well, but Mother’s crazy about Miss Heath’s kind. She’s always getting her to play the piano in the evenings, and Father listens, too, but he almost always goes to sleep. Miss Heath wants to play in concerts, and Mother’s going to try to get her an engagement when we go back to New York.”
“My father played in concerts,” said Gretel, eagerly. “He was a great musician, Hermann Schiller—did you ever hear him play?”
Geraldine was forced to admit that she hadnot, but added politely that perhaps Mother had, and just then they reached the cottage Mr. Barlow had taken for the season. Mr. and Mrs. Barlow were on their way to call on some friends, so the children went into the house alone.
“There’s Miss Heath playing now,” remarked Geraldine, as they mounted the piazza steps, and the sound of a distant piano fell upon their ears. “She always plays when she’s by herself. I don’t believe she really minded about our not letting her go to the fort.”
“It was all your fault,” declared Jerry; “I was perfectly willing to have her come along.”
Geraldine looked a little ashamed.
“Well, if we’d given in to her in one thing, it might have made trouble afterwards,” she maintained stoutly. “We said in that paper that she wasn’t to come near us except at lessons, and she agreed to it. Come up to my room, Gretel; you can take off your things there.”
But greatly to Geraldine’s surprise, her new friend had suddenly appeared to lose all interest in her society. As the front door opened, and the sound of the piano became more distinct, she had given one little start, and was now standing quite still, with clasped hands, and parted lips, while her cheeks grew pink, and her eyes beganto shine in a way that seemed to the twins quite startling.
“It’s one of Father’s pieces,” she whispered rapturously—“one he wrote himself, I mean. Oh, how wonderful!” And then, as if forgetful of everything else in the world, she darted forward, and fairly flew across the hall to the parlor, followed by her two wondering companions.
A young lady was seated at the piano; a very pretty young lady, with dimples, and soft light hair, that fell in little curls over her forehead. At the entrance of the children, she paused in her playing, and turned to greet them with a smile. But before she could speak, or the twins offer any explanation, Gretel had sprung to the strange young lady’s side, and laid a trembling little hand on her arm.
“Oh, don’t stop, please don’t!” she cried imploringly; “it’s Father’s sonata, and you were playing it so beautifully. I love all Father’s things so, and I haven’t heard any of them since—since—” A big sob finished the sentence.
“Why, my dear little girl,” exclaimed Miss Heath, her face changing from amusement to real sympathy; “what is the matter—what does this all mean, children?”
“Oh, don’t stop; please don’t!”—Page146.
“Oh, don’t stop; please don’t!”—Page146.
“Oh, don’t stop; please don’t!”—Page146.
The twins shook their heads helplessly, and stared at their visitor in blank amazement.
“There isn’t anything the matter,” faltered Gretel, “only you were playing Father’s sonata, and I was so glad to hear it. I couldn’t help getting excited. Please excuse me; I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Barbara Heath’s only answer was to slip an arm round the little trembling figure.
“Who is this little girl?” she inquired of the twins.
“Her name is Gretel Schiller,” Geraldine explained. “Father and Mother know her brother, and she’s going to spend the day. We’re going up-stairs now; come along, Gretel.”
But Gretel did not move.
“Gretel Schiller,” repeated Miss Heath. “Why, can it be possible that your father was Hermann Schiller?” And she glanced at the sheet of music before her on the piano.
“Yes, he was,” said Gretel, proudly. “Oh, would you mind finishing the sonata? I want to hear it so very much.”
“Of course I will,” said Miss Heath, kindly. “I am very fond of it myself, but I am afraid I may not do it justice; it is rather difficult, andI haven’t had much time for practicing lately.”
“Oh, yes, you will,” protested Gretel. “You were playing it just the way Father did. I haven’t heard any one play the piano like that since he died. May I stay here for a little while, Geraldine? I want so much to hear the lady play?”
“You can stay if you want to,” answered Geraldine, who was beginning to look rather disgusted at this sudden turn of affairs, “but she’s Miss Heath, our teacher, and we don’t have to stay with her except at lessons. Jerry and I are going up-stairs, and you can come when you get ready.” And Geraldine departed, followed by her brother.
Then followed an hour of such bliss as Gretel had not known since her father’s death more than a year before. Miss Heath was really an accomplished musician, and what was more, she loved music just as much as Gretel did. It was a real delight to play to any one who seemed to enjoy it as did this odd little brown-eyed girl, who nestled close to her side, and seemed to drink in every note with actual rapture. She finished the sonata, and after playing several other beautiful things, she asked the child kind, interested questions, all of which Gretel answered readily. MissHeath knew all about Hermann Schiller, and had even heard him play several times, and she caused Gretel’s proud little heart to swell by her praises of her father’s talent. Indeed, Gretel was completely fascinated by the pretty young lady, and it seemed to her quite inconceivable that Jerry and Geraldine could regard Miss Heath as a rather tiresome addition to the party, whose society was to be dispensed with on every possible occasion.
At last Miss Heath suggested that it might be well for Gretel to rejoin her friends.
“I can’t join them myself,” she added, laughing, “because I am under contract to appear only at lesson hours. They are a funny little pair, but I am sure you will like them.”
Gretel would have preferred remaining where she was, but feared it might not be polite to leave the twins for too long, so she rose reluctantly.
“Thank you so much for playing,” she said in her sweet, courteous little voice; “I didn’t know I should ever hear any one play the piano like that again.”
“I will play for you as often as you like,” promised Miss Heath, who was pleased as well as touched by the simple compliment. “Do you expect to be at Old Point long?”
Gretel said that she was staying at the hotel with her brother, and that he was attending to some business in the neighborhood. She was not sure how long they would remain, but thought it would be several weeks.
“Then you must come to see me often,” said Miss Heath. “I haven’t very much to do, as the children object to my society out of lesson hours. Now come and I will show you the way up-stairs; Jerry and Geraldine will think you have forsaken them.”
Gretel found the twins deep in an animated discussion; Geraldine perched on the foot of her bed; Jerry standing in the middle of the floor, his face very red, and both hands thrust deep into his pockets.
“Here comes Gretel,” exclaimed Geraldine, as the visitor entered the room; “shall we let her settle it?”
“Not if she won’t settle it the right way,” returned Jerry, firmly. “I say it’s mean not to let her go.”
“What is it?” Gretel inquired, glancing from one solemn little face to the other.
“It’s about this afternoon,” said Geraldine; “Father has promised to take us to the navy yardat Newport News, and Jerry thinks we ought to let Miss Heath go, too.”
“Why, yes, of course you ought,” declared Gretel, with so much decision that Jerry gave vent to his satisfaction by an eager “Good for you,” and favored his new friend with a friendly smile.
But Geraldine was not so easily convinced.
“It isn’t in the contract,” she objected; “the contract says she is only to be with us at lessons, and to-day is Saturday.”
“Bother the old contract!” retorted Jerry. “I say it’s mean to leave her by herself all the time, with nothing to do but read books and play on the old piano. If she isn’t to go I won’t go either; so there!”
Geraldine was troubled; she was very fond of her twin, but a bargain was a bargain.
“I know how we’ll settle it,” she exclaimed, with a sudden inspiration; “we’ll draw lots. I’ll get two pieces of paper, a long one and a short one, and you can draw. The long one means she goes, the short one she doesn’t. But if she does go she’s got to promise not to say a word about history or any other teaching thing all the afternoon.”
Jerry consented to this arrangement, and Gretellooked on with considerable interest while the papers were produced, and Miss Heath’s fate decided. Geraldine held the two pieces of paper in her hand, and her brother shut his eyes tight before drawing. There was a moment of breathless excitement, followed by a shout of triumph from Jerry; he had drawn the long piece.
Jerry rushed off to tell Miss Heath the good news that she was to be permitted to share their society for the afternoon, and Geraldine showed Gretel her dolls, and a few other treasures, which she had brought from New York, over which the two little girls soon became very good friends. Then Mr. and Mrs. Barlow came home, and the whole party went over to the hotel to luncheon.
The twins talked a great deal at the luncheon table, and expressed their likes and dislikes on so many subjects, that Gretel could not help wondering why their parents did not reprove them occasionally, but Mr. and Mrs. Barlow did not appear to notice, and as for pretty Miss Heath, she was so bright and merry, and laughed so much at the children’s remarks, that Gretel could not imagine why they should not find her a most delightful companion. Every one was very kind to the little visitor, and Mrs. Barlow asked her to accompany the party to the navy yard.
“Miss Heath is going, too,” announced Jerry, with his mouth full of ice-cream.
Mrs. Barlow looked a little surprised, but not at all displeased.
“Yes, I am really to be permitted to join the party,” said Miss Heath, laughing; “I believe the question was settled by the drawing of lots.”
“But there’s a condition,” put in Geraldine, gravely; “she isn’t to mention any teaching things like history or geography all the afternoon. She’s just to be an ordinary lady, not a teacher.” At which remark Miss Heath laughed more than ever, and Mr. and Mrs. Barlow also seemed much amused.
So, shortly after luncheon the party, consisting of Mr. Barlow, Miss Heath and the three children, started for Newport News. Mrs. Barlow had an engagement with friends at the hotel, but before they started she kissed both twins, and delivered quite a long lecture to them, on the subject of improving their opportunities.
“This visit to the navy yard is a great privilege for my little boy and girl,” she ended, “and I shall expect them both to appreciate it, and to remember all they see and hear. Mother will want to be told all about it this evening.”
Jerry looked rather bored, and Geraldine fidgetedimpatiently from one foot to the other, but just then their father called them, and they were off like a shot, without even taking the time to answer.
“Your mother likes to hear about everything you do, doesn’t she?” remarked Gretel a little wistfully to Geraldine, as they were on their way to the trolley car. “My father was like that, too; I always told him about everything.”
“Mother doesn’t really care very much,” answered Geraldine, indifferently; “she gets most of those ideas out of books. She never used to bother so much; it’s only since she’s been going to those lectures. We like her much better this way, though. She used to be always worrying for fear we would take cold or eat something that would disagree with us.”
Gretel enjoyed the afternoon immensely. The ride in the car, which at times went almost as fast as an automobile; the visit to the navy yard, where they were allowed to go aboard a battle-ship; and the pleasant society of her companions. Before the excursion was over she had become quite attached to Jerry and Geraldine, and was sure Miss Heath must be one of the most delightful young ladies in the world. The twins were so fascinated with the battle-ship, that theirfather had some difficulty in tearing them away.
“I think to live on a boat must be the loveliest thing in the world,” declared Geraldine, when they were at last leaving the big ship.
“You will have a chance to try if we go abroad next year,” her father told her. But Geraldine did not look quite satisfied.
“Next year is such a long time off,” she objected, “and perhaps we won’t even go then.”
“I’m going sometime, anyhow,” announced Jerry in a tone of settled conviction, and then the subject was dropped.
The car going back to Old Point was so crowded that it was impossible for the whole party to sit together. Mr. Barlow took the twins out on the front platform, and Gretel, much to her delight, found herself alone with Miss Heath.
“Do you think I have behaved myself well enough to be invited again?” the young lady asked, smiling, as the car started. “I haven’t mentioned any ‘teaching things,’ have I?”
“No, indeed you haven’t,” returned Gretel, laughing, “but I wish you would talk a little about ‘teaching things’ to me—that is if you like talking about them. You see, I’m dreadfully behind with my lessons, and I haven’t had any since January. My brother says he is goingto send me to school next year, but he’s afraid it’s a little late to begin this season.”
Miss Heath looked interested, and by dint of a few kindly questions, had soon learned all Gretel’s simple story.
“It has been so beautiful ever since my brother came home, that I feel as if I must be living in a fairy story,” finished the little girl, “but I’m afraid if I don’t begin to learn something soon, he may be ashamed of me. I’m even forgetting my German.”
“I will speak German with you if you like,” said Miss Heath. “I studied music for several years in Germany, and used to speak the language fairly well.” And she added a few words in German, which caused Gretel’s eyes to sparkle with delight.
“You speak it beautifully!” she cried joyfully. “Oh, I am so glad. Nobody has spoken German to me in such a long time, and I love it so, because it was Father’s language. I wish my brother spoke it, but he says he doesn’t know a word.”
Miss Heath looked rather surprised, but seeing the tears in Gretel’s eyes, she refrained from asking any more questions.
“I, too, had a dear father, whom I loved verymuch,” she said. “He only left me last year, and I have missed him terribly.”
Gretel glanced at her new friend’s black dress, and instinctively nestled a little closer to her.
“You know all about it, then,” she said, softly.
“Yes, dear, I know all about it.”
“But I haven’t been so lonely since my brother came home,” said Gretel. “I hope you have a brother, too; brothers are so nice. I never knew how nice mine was till he came back from China.”
“China!” repeated Miss Heath in surprise; “did your brother go to China? I have been there, too. My father was a great traveler, and he and I have been nearly all over the world together. It was on our voyage home from China that he was taken ill. He died in San Francisco, and I have been alone ever since, for I am not so fortunate as you. I was an only child, and my mother died when I was a little girl.”
Miss Heath smiled bravely, but her eyes looked sad, and her lip trembled a little. With a sudden loving impulse, Gretel slipped her hand into that of her new friend.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered; “I wish you had a brother.” That was all, but Miss Heath squeezed the kind little hand tight, and Gretel felt sure that she understood.
They were on their way from the car to the hotel when Gretel caught sight of her brother, standing on the sidewalk just in front of them, in conversation with another gentleman.
“There’s Percy!” she exclaimed eagerly to Miss Heath, for she still lingered by her new friend’s side, although the twins had run on ahead, and Mr. Barlow stopped to do an errand.
“Where, dear?” Miss Heath asked, for she was beginning to feel some curiosity in this big brother, of whom her little friend seemed so proud.
“There, that tall gentleman, talking to the old man in spectacles. That’s my brother; don’t you think he’s handsome?”
But Miss Heath did not answer. She had come to a sudden standstill, and her cheeks had grown very pink. Just then Mr. Douane caught sight of Gretel and her companion, and he too stopped short in evident astonishment.
“Barbara—I beg your pardon,—Miss Heath! Is it possible?”
Gretel’s eyes opened wide in amazement, and well they might, for there was her tall brother holding Miss Heath’s hand, and gazing down at her with such a strange, glad look in his eyes, and there was Miss Heath actually trembling alittle, as she declared that she had never been so surprised in her life.
“I hadn’t the least idea you were in this country,” Gretel heard her say, and her voice did not sound quite steady, although she was smiling and looking prettier than ever.
“And you,” said Mr. Douane, “I had no idea where you were. I tried to find you, but you had left no address at the hotel in Hong-Kong.”
“I suppose Father must have forgotten to leave any,” said Miss Heath. “He was not well, and decided to leave rather suddenly.”
For the first few moments neither Mr. Douane nor Miss Heath appeared to remember Gretel’s existence, but when Miss Heath explained that she had come to Old Point with a Mr. and Mrs. Barlow, and Mr. Douane explained in his turn that he and his little sister were staying at the “Chamberlain,” he suddenly remembered Gretel, and turned to look for her. And then everybody was surprised all over again.
“I had no idea the brother my little friend Gretel has been telling me so much about would turn out to be a friend of mine as well,” said Miss Heath, “but I don’t think I quite understand the situation even yet. She tells me her name is Schiller.”
“My mother’s second husband was Hermann Schiller, the pianist,” said Mr. Douane; “Gretel is their little girl. We never knew each other till about ten days ago, but we are great chums now.” And he slipped an arm affectionately round his little sister.
“Oh, Percy,” exclaimed Gretel, the moment she and her brother were alone together, having left Miss Heath at the Barlows’ cottage, “isn’t she the dearest, loveliest young lady you ever saw, and aren’t you glad you’ve found her again? I heard you tell her you’d been trying to find her.”
“I am indeed,” answered Mr. Douane, heartily.