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"Now, dad, the Largo once more before we close." They did the Largo once
and again, then springing from the piano Barry cried: "That Largo is
a means of grace to me. There could be no better preparation for a
religious meeting than that. If you would only come in and play for
them, it would do them much more good than all my preaching."
"If you would only take your music seriously, Barry," replied his
father, somewhat sadly, "you would become a good player, perhaps even a
great player."
"And then what, dad?"
His father waved him aside, putting up his 'cello.
"No use going into that again, boy."
"Well, I couldn't have been a great player, at any rate, dad."
"Perhaps not, boy, perhaps not," said his father. "Great players are
very rare. But it is time for your meeting."
"So it is, dad. Awfully sorry I didn't finish up those dishes. Let them
go till I return. I wish you would, dad, and come along with me." His
voice had a wistful note in it.
"Not to-night, boy, I think. We will have some talk after.


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