When the coffee was served (Dirkie had brought it from Amsterdam, purchasing it on the Damplaatz, at the corner of Kalver Straat), my aunt filled a long porcelain pipe which my uncle took from her hands and lighted, puffing out clouds of smoke, with the serene gravity of some worthy burgomaster at home. We drank some schiedam and two sorts of dry curacoa. While my aunt sat knitting at the table she questioned me as to my occupations, asking me if I were working in my uncle's establishment; and upon my replying affirmatively to her, she gave me some very good advice, telling me to be very industrious so that I might take my uncle's place later on. At half-past ten we rose from table and went into the drawing-room. Dirkie got everything ready for a game of dominoes, and they began to play in the Dutch fashion. My uncle kept the markers, and noted the points made: he himself speedily scored between three and four hundred, and then, feeling satisfied with his success, he said: "Well, give us a little music!" My aunt did not require any pressing, but went to the piano in a very good-humoured manner. She opened the top so that the instrument might give out a louder sound, then passed behind and arranged everything; and suddenly I heard the splendid introduction of Haydn's seventh symphony in _F major_ bursting forth, while my aunt turned the handle with rare skill and gracefulness. (I recognised the superb instrument mentioned in the fourth legacy of the famous will.) I must admit that if my aunt played the minuet rather quickly, she executed the _andante_ in a very delicate style, and the _scherzo_ and the _finale_ were both dashed off in a spirited way. At the last chord, I applauded with sincere enthusiasm. "She plays very well, doesn't she?" my uncle quietly asked me, in a modest tone. "You, who are a connoisseur--" "Oh! she plays perfectly," I rejoined, without stinting my praise. "And besides she puts expression into it," he resumed. "One can see that she feels what she plays." My aunt kissed him for this compliment, which he paid her with the gravest assurance. "Ah! you are still a flatterer!" she said to him. As may readily be guessed, some of Strauss's waltzes and two or three polkas followed the classical symphonies, together with the overtures of "Don Giovanni" and "Fra Diavolo." It was really a perfect concert till midnight. But by that time my aunt's plump arm being somewhat tired it was necessary to bring the entertainment to a close.