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Bohemians with well-to-do parents, they could already afford to squander a little spasmodic and self-gratifying patronage. And Aaron did not mind being patronised. He had nothing else to do. But the party broke up early in September. The flautist was detained a few days at a country house, for the amusement of the guests. Then he left for London. In London he found himself at a loose end.
Jim was grinning, the flautist looked unwilling. He had a comely appearance, in his white shirt a certain comely blondness and repose. And as much a gentleman as anybody. "Well!" cried Josephine to him. "How do you come here?" "I play the flute," he answered, as he shook hands. The little crowd stood in the gangway and talked. "How wonderful of you to be here!" cried Julia. He laughed.
There was a man once* I forget his name, but we may call him Cho Kung for our purposes; he was of affable demeanor, and an excellent flautist; and had an enormous disbelief in ghosts, bogies, goblins, and 'supernatural' beings of every kind. It seized him with the force of a narrow creed; and he went forth to missionarize, seeking disputants.
Several times he was on the point of speaking on the subject. Once, indeed, he made a playful allusion to the flautist of the bower that was provocative of no more than a reddened cheek and an interlude of silence. But tacitly the lover was a theme for strict avoidance.
Jim rocked through the crowd, in his tall hat, looking for the flautist. At last Aaron was found wearing a bowler hat. Julia groaned in spirit. Josephine's brow knitted. Not that anybody cared, really. But as one must frown at something, why not at the bowler hat?
"How could it be the new chap when he was not blowing, idiot?" cried the bandmaster, angrily, trying hard to hedge and preserve his character for consistency. "Here, you Smithson, run through those few bars with the others. No; not you, Jones." The flautist sulkily lowered his flute, while the theme was now played as a trio with admirable effect.
The harper thrummed with rapid fingers; the violin player flashed his bow back and forth across the strings; the flautist poured his breath in quick puffs of jollity, while Donatello shook the tambourine above his head, and led the merry throng with unweariable steps.
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