"That shows one thing," she answered, "you don't know much about music, or you would not call my playing beautiful." "Well, it sounds so to me," said Anna, a little abashed by this directness of speech, "but I certainly don't know much about music; Aunt Sarah says I need not go on with it while I am here." "I play very badly," said Delia; "if you wish to hear beautiful playing, you must listen to your grandfather." "Must I?" said Anna, vaguely. "I thought," she added, "that he played the organ in Dornton church." "So he does," said Delia, "but he plays the violin too. And he gives lessons. He taught me." She looked searchingly at her companion, whose fair face reddened a little. "I owe everything to him," continued Delia; "without what he has done for me my life would be dark. He brought light into it when he taught me to play and to love music." "Did he?" said Anna, wonderingly. She began to feel that she did not understand Delia; she was speaking a strange language, which evidently meant something to her, for her eyes sparkled, and her brown cheek glowed with excitement. "We ought to be proud in Dornton," Delia went on, "to have your grandfather living here, but we're not worthy of him. His genius would place him in a high position among people who could understand him. Here it's just taken for granted." Anna grew more puzzled and surprised still. Delia's tone upset the idea she began to have that her grandfather was a person to be pitied. This was a different way of speaking of him, and it was impossible to get used to it all at once. At Waverley he was hardly mentioned at all, and she had come to avoid doing so also, from a feeling that her aunt disliked it. She could not suddenly bring herself to look upon him as a genius, and be proud of him, though she had every wish to please Delia. "What a pity," she said, hesitatingly, "that he is so poor, and has to live in such a very little house, if he is so clever!" "Poor?" exclaimed Delia, indignantly; then, checking herself, she added, quietly, "It depends on what you call poor. What the Professor possesses is worth all the silver and gold and big houses in the world. And that's just what the Dornton people don't understand. Why, the rich ones actually _patronise_ him, and think he is fortunate in giving their children music-lessons." Delia began to look so wrathful as she went on, that Anna longed to change the subject to one which might be more soothing. She could not at all understand why her companion was so angry. It was certainly a pity that Mr Goodwin was obliged to give lessons, but if he must, it was surely a good thing that people were willing to employ him. While she was pondering this in silence, she was relieved by a welcome proposal from Delia that they should go down-stairs, and have tea in the garden. "Afterwards," she added, "I will show you the way to Waverley over the fields."