And he did. He taught him for three years. He taught him passionately all he knew, for Geoffrey, with music in his blood, had the great gift of the composer. He poured upon the boy all the love of his lonely old heart, and dreamed glorious dreams of his future. The Kirilovs, too, regarded Geoffrey as a prodigy, and welcomed him into their circle, and made much of him. And little Sonia fell in love with him, and he, in his boyish way, fell in love with the dark-haired maiden who played on a 'cello so much bigger than herself. At last the time came when Angelo said: "My son, I can teach you no more. You must go to Milan." "My father will never consent," said Geoffrey. "We will try to arrange that," said Angelo. So, in their simple ways, Angelo and Mrs. Chase intrigued together until they prevailed upon Mr. Chase to attend one of the Kirilovs' Sunday concerts. He came in church-going clothes, and sat with irreconcilable stiffness on a straight-backed chair. His wife sat close by, much agitated. The others played a concerto arranged as a quintette; Geoffrey first violin, Angelo second, Sonia 'cello, Anton bass, and Mrs. Kirilov at the piano. It was a piece of exquisite tenderness and beauty. "Very pretty," said Mr. Chase. "It's beautiful," cried his wife, with tears in her eyes. "I said so," remarked Mr. Chase. "And what do you think of my pupil?" Angelo asked excitedly. "I think he plays very nicely," Mr. Chase admitted. "But, dear heavens!" cried Angelo. "It is not his playing! One could pick up fifty better violinists in the street. It is the concerto--the composition." Mr. Chase rose slowly to his feet. "Do you mean to tell me that Geoffrey made up all that himself?" "Of course. Didn't you know?" "Will you play it again?" Gladly they assented. When it was over he took Angelo out into the passage. "I'm not one of those narrow-minded people who don't believe in art, Mr. Fardetti," said he. "And Geoff has already shown me that he can't sell seeds for toffee. But if he takes up music, will he be able to earn his living at it?" "Beyond doubt," replied Angelo, with a wide gesture. "But a good living? You'll forgive me being personal, Mr. Fardetti, but you yourself----" "I," said the old man humbly, "am only a poor fiddler--but your son is a great musical genius." "I'll think over it," said Mr. Chase.