But these
people here will still be at work on this same triangle years after I
am dead, if they have anybody to teach them."
"Now, Terence, my boy," said the King, "there's one thing you can do
for us we can understand. Give us a tune out of the fiddle."
Kathleen was startled to hear this boy named Terence asked to play on
the fiddle, just as if he had been the other Terence whom she knew.
She wondered if he played like the other Terence. She scarcely dared
wait to hear, and she felt as if she should like to run away, only she
did not know where to run.
But she did not think any more about running after Terence began to
play. This was different. And yet in one way it was the same. For the
music that Terence was playing was just the music that the other
Terence often played and just what most people liked to hear him play
best, though Kathleen had always liked it as little as anything else
that he did. She had never heard anyone else play it till now. And now
it was so different. She could scarcely tell the difference, and yet
she could feel it in every clear note that Terence drew out with his
bow.
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