"Dear Miss Snell," Mrs. Ivy explained, "corresponding secretary of the
A. T. L. A. If you had _only_ come sooner you could have met her. What
were you asking? Oh, yes! about Gerald's music. Why, you could no more
imagine Gerald without music, than you could think of a bird without
wings. He would simply perish without a piano. When we are abroad we
rent one if we are only going to be in a place ten days. His Papa
can't understand this, but then Mr. Ivy is not musical, poor dear; he
really doesn't know a fugue from a fantasie."
"Neither do I," said Decker. "Do the Queeringtons still live next
door?"
"Yes. You know our beloved Doctor has married again."
"What! Good old Syllogism Queerington! you don't mean it! I wonder if
he knows her first name? He taught me four years up at the University
and never could remember mine."
"Oh! here's my boy! Are you feeling better, dear?" Mrs. Ivy turned
expectant eyes to the door where a lean, loosely put together young
man was just entering. He had the slouching gait that indicates
relaxed ambitions as well as relaxed muscles, and his hands were deep
in his pockets as if they were at home there.
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