While he was playing, a younger man came into the showroom and stood listening attentively. After a while he turned to Mr. Paderewski and said, “What plans have you in mind for your son?” The father said proudly, “My boy has just been accepted for the Conservatory without an examination. That’s why I want to buy him a piano!” “Not this old thing!” the young man said. “It would be worthless in a year. You don’t have to buy him a piano! I will give him one to practice on. For nothing!” Mr. Paderewski could hardly believe his ears. He looked inquiringly at Mr. Kerntopf. “This is my partner and my eldest son,” the old gentleman said, shrugging as if to say that there was nothing he could do about this sort of impulse. But he looked pleased in spite of himself. Mr. Paderewski said, “Now I must find a place for Ignace to live. I would like to get him a room with a family. He is so young to be alone in the city. Perhaps you could advise me?” Edward Kerntopf laughed. “_Here_ is a family. It’s a little big already. There are ten children in it, so one more will hardly be noticed! Leave your boy here and he can practice on all the pianos in the factory.” Mr. Paderewski beamed. All his problems had been solved at once. God works in different ways to help the people who are close to Him accomplish His work and theirs. In Paderewski’s life it happened time and again that when exactly the right person was needed to fill a specific need, that person was always sent to him. Edward Kerntopf was the first of many. Although young Ignace wept bitterly when it was time to say goodbye to his father, his tears dried quickly. A houseful of youngsters to play with, and a factory full of pianos to play on! It was a splendid combination. On the day Ignace reported to the Conservatory for his first piano lesson, his excitement was so great that he could hardly walk without reeling. Never in his short life had he looked forward to anything so eagerly. To study piano with a really fine teacher! Young as he was, the boy knew very well that although he could improvise cleverly and could impress his neighbors in Sudylkow, he did not really know how to play the piano correctly. He had a vast natural instinct for music, but such matters as correct hand position, fingering, and proper pedalling were mysteries to him. This was not surprising, since neither of his teachers at home had known much more than he himself knew about piano technique. But now, he thought naively, now at last he would learn everything! Here at the Conservatory some great teacher would give him the key to unlock all the secrets of the piano. By the end of the first lesson, poor Ignace’s enthusiasm had been cruelly dampened. The teacher to whom he had been assigned was a surly type. He listened to the boy play for a few minutes and then said flatly, “You’ll never be a pianist. You haven’t got the hands for it!” He added helpfully, “I understand you write music. You’d better stick to that!”