"Of course, that holds good in all musical performances. Have you professed music long?" "Not long." "It requires immense practice to excel in it--longer time and harder study than would make a first classman at Oxford, I have heard it said; and, after all, the reward of it is very poor." I sat horror-struck. Did the girl recognise me, and twit me with the profession I had chosen, as well as the career I had refused? "No profession is poorly paid," I replied, "that brings with it independence and self-respect." "O, surely not. Do you give lessons?" "No." "Ah! many people refuse to become teachers from false pride, and a notion that it degrades. I don't think so. Do you?" What was I to say? The girl certainly had discovered me in spite of beard and eyebrow. I looked at her full in the face. No--there was no consciousness there. Nothing but kindness, and a strange look of compassion, with which it was impossible to take offence, for there was an appearance of deep interest in it, which was flattering to my self-love. "Madam, I have never hitherto thought of having pupils." "O, but you will now. I have long been anxious for a flute accompaniment to my piano. I will speak to papa." "Miss Pybus," whispered Mr Hooker, "if you have had a long enough conversation with that fiddler, will you fulfil your promise of dancing with me this dance?" "Certainly," she said--"I never draw back from my promise;" and I was left alone. In one of the pauses of the dance I saw her speak to her father. He expanded into a smile like a gigantic sunflower, and chucked her under the chin, and away she went, still followed by that beaming smile. I grew tired of watching the happiness of Mr Hooker, and was about to slip noiselessly away--Mr Pybus glowed up to where I stood. "My daughter tells me you have no objection to give her a few lessons on music, and accompany her on the flute," he said. "I am not aware, sir," I began. But at this moment I saw Emily's eye fixed on me as she moved towards us in the dance. "Well, well, if she's quite satisfied with your proficiency, I am. Come up on Friday to Muswell Hill, Holly-Hock House--Mr Pybus. Here's my card; we have a party on that evening, and you can begin by accompanying the piano. Hire a cab, and let me know your expenses. We shall not fall out about terms." "I really, sir, scarcely know--" "O, any one will point out Holly-Hock House," said the father. "The cabman is sure to know it." "I am so happy you have agreed to come," said the daughter, who had again careered within earshot of our talk. "I shall expect you on Friday." What was to be done? I bowed--and the bargain was closed. CHAPTER XII.