"It's scientific, strictly scientific; and may be logically defended, especially when a fire is being lighted. Heaping on coal with a shovel is unscientific--in the highest degree." He struck a match; presently the paper was in flames. "Now you had better go and wash your hands. You'll have to do it in the scullery; and by the time you're done, the fire will be out." But the fire was not out. It was a complete success. The kettle was put on, preparations were made for tea, and the table was laid, Graham showing a talent for rendering assistance which was not accorded the thanks it might have been. Madge was chilly. "I should imagine you were rather a handy person to have about the house." "There are diversities of gifts; let us hope that each of us has at least one." "Exactly. But, unfortunately, I do not care to see a man, what is called, 'making himself useful about the house'--if your gift lies in that direction. I suppose it is because I am not enough of a New Woman. Perhaps now you've given me your assistance in laying the cloth, you will give me some music." He was smoothing a corner of the cloth in question--and looked down. "It is you who are the teacher." She flashed up at him. "What do you mean by that?" "It is true--is it not?" "If you wish me to understand that you would rather not play, have the goodness to say so plainly." Whereupon he sat down--and played. And Madge listened. When he stopped, she was looking away from him, toward the fire. Tears were in her eyes. "I suppose you are a genius?" Her voice seemed a little strained. He shook his head. "No--the music comes out of the ends of my fingers." He went on playing. When he ceased, again she turned to him--with passionate eyes. "I never heard any one play like you before." "It's because I'm in the mood." He played on. It seemed to her that he spoke to her out of the soul of music. She sat still and listened. Her heart-strings tightened, her pulses throbbed, her cheeks burned; every nerve in her frame was on the alert. Never had such things been said to her before. She could have cried--and would have cried, if she had dared. The message breathed to her by Bruce Graham's playing told of a world of which she, unconsciously, had dreamed. He played; and she sat and listened, in the firelight, till Ella came home to tea. And with Ella came Jack Martyn. CHAPTER XII TOM OSSINGTON'S LAWYER It was while they were seated at table that Bruce Graham told them of the result of his investigations. Although, for some reason, the subject had not been mentioned when Madge and he had been alone together, that young lady showed herself alert and eager enough then. Nor, in that respect, was Ella behind her friend, while Martyn concealed an interest which was probably equal to theirs under ponderous attempts at jocularity. It was Jack who brought him to the point.