Energy books

Many were the
hours the father and son spent together through the long evenings of
the western winter, and among the many bonds that held them in close
comradeship, none was stronger than their common devotion to music.
Long after his son had departed to his meeting the father sat dreaming
over his 'cello, wandering among the familiar bits from the old masters
as fancy led him, nor was he aware of the lapse of time till his son
returned.
"Hello! Nine-thirty?" he exclaimed, looking at his watch. "You have
given them an extra dose to-night."
"Business meeting afterwards, which didn't come off after all," said
his son. "Postponed till next Sunday." With this curt announcement, and
without further comment he sat down at his desk.
But after a few moments he rose quickly, saying, "Let us do some real
work, dad."
He took up his violin. His father, who was used to his moods, without
question or remark proceeded to tune up. An hour's hard practice
followed, without word from either except as regarded the work in hand.


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