Hopper's head went down over his 'cello, Dick's cheek on his violin; and the oddly assorted couple began to solemnly scrape away, sometimes melodiously, sometimes getting into terrible tangles over the score, consequent upon its being set for three voices or instruments, and Dick having to dodge up and down, from the treble to the tenor and back; while Hopper, with half-closed eyes, and his head moving to and fro like a snag on an American river, kept on sawing away, regardless of everything but the deep tones he evolved from the strings. From "Life's a Bumper" they went on to "Vital Spark," and from "Vital Spark" to the "Hallelujah Chorus," and from the "Hallelujah Chorus" to "Forgive, blest Shade;" and then Dick tried a solo known as "The Cuckoo." But it was a failure; for though he managed the first note of the bird, the second would not come--all owing to want of practice,--so he gave way to Hopper, who, with knitted brows, played his solo, "Adeste fideles," with variations; the effect upon the boy being absolutely painful, causing him to thrust his legs up under the stool, and head down, with his arms crossed over his person. His face, too, was drawn; and had it not been for the variations, it seemed probable that he would have had a fit of sobbing. These latter, being more lively, saved him; though he had a painful relapse during the third variation, which was _largo_, and in A minor, his face during the performance being a study. However, he became convalescent during the _allegro finale_, and all ended well. Tea being declared ready, the musicians ceased their toils for the time being, and feasted on watercress and shrimps; and though the "creases," as Dick called them, were a little yellow, and the shrimps dull in hue, and too crumby and soft for crustaceans, the meal was a great success, and Hopper actually made a joke. Like giants refreshed, Dick and he returned to their instruments, and sawed away until supper, which was luxurious, consisting, as it did, of a highly savoured rump-steak pudding, with so much pepper in it, in fact, that both took off their coats, and perspired in peace. "Ha!" said Hopper suddenly--"I like this; it's better than eating curry in company at your brother's, where you can't scratch your head." "Yes, nice pudding," said Dick, with his mouth full. "You've put a good lot of salt in it, Jessie." "Lot!" chuckled Hopper. "I had one bit that tasted as if Jessie had put in Lot's wife as well--the whole pillar. But, never mind, my dear; that's the best pudding I ever ate in my life. I could taste your fingers in the crust." The table being cleared, half a bottle of whiskey and the pipes were placed, with hot water, on the table by Jessie, whose eyes were always wandering nervously towards the door, as if expecting to see some one come in.