"'Oh, don't attempt to flatter me by any such outrageous comparisons, Mr. Lawson. For beauty, I am not to be mentioned in the same breath with that girl.' This expression was so true that, upon my word, I could not dispute with my tongue that which my heart acknowledged with every throb. I sat in silence, eager for more words of praise of Erma. 'And, strange to say,' she continued, 'the girl is so charming in mind and manner. She has a smile that somehow reveals all the sweetness there is in her soul.' I cursed my soul for that luck that had robbed me of one of those smiles. 'She has so many ways of arranging that glossy, black hair. Every way she changes it makes her appear more beautiful. Of course, the thread of her hair is a little coarse.' I could have slapped Miss Franzetta for even intimating that coarse hair, such as Erma had, was a defect. 'And the girl plays superbly.' I could stand it no longer. I should have been destroyed by the process of spontaneous combustion if I had not said, 'Invite her in and let her play.' "Miss Turner looked at me inquiringly, to see if I really intended that she should call the Negro girl to entertain us. Intend it! Of course I intended it. Was not that why the girl and I both were there? I repeated my request, hiding my emotion, of course. The greatest currents of the human heart, whether good or bad, seek subterranean passages. Miss Turner rose to call Erma, and, wretch that I am, I actually muttered a prayer of thanks to God. Erma followed Miss Turner into the room, and smiling such a smile as actually lighted that whole room, she made me forget everything else. I arose to be introduced. Erma looked just as much at home and as unembarrassed as though she had been accustomed to such scenes all her days. "'Mr. Lawson, let me present to you Miss Erma Wysong.' "'The son of the popular Ex-Governor of our State?' asked Erma of Miss Turner. "'It is he,' was the reply. "Erma then came toward me and gave me her hand. Her touch thrilled me, and I actually could not return her greeting, 'I am pleased to know you, Mr. Lawson.' "'Mr. Lawson wishes you to play some for us, Erma.' "Erma looked at me, and I nodded slowly, as I did not care for her to lift those tender brown eyes away from me too soon. Seeing that it was my wish, Erma went at once to the piano. Erma did not _play_. No! such music as she gave was not _playing_. She just dropped bits of her heart and soul on that keyboard, and the keys cried out in sympathetic tones, and we sat and listened in awe. Since that time I have wondered why people can say _play_ music. Music is too serious a matter to be called play.