"Oh, but that is for the work he is doing; that is for his pictures." She
turned to look through the tiny opening in the arbor. "How I wish I could
see inside that beautiful room. I know it must be beautiful. Once, when
you were all gone, I tried to steal in; but, of course, he keeps it
locked."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said the man, suddenly--prompted by her
confession to resume his playful mood.

"What?" she asked eagerly, in a like spirit of fun.

"First," he answered, half teasingly, "I must know if you could, now, make
your music for me as well as for him."

"For the you that loves the mountains and the garden I'm sure I could,"
she answered promptly.

"Well then, if you will promise to do that--if you will promise not to
play _yourself_ for just him alone but for me too--I'll fix it so that you
can go into the studio yonder."

"Oh, I will always play for you, too, anyway--now that I know you."

"Of course," he said, "we could just walk up to the door, and I could
introduce you; but that would not be proper for _us_ would it?"

She shook her head positively, "I wouldn't like to do that. He would think
I was intruding, I am sure."