" The old man then seated himself in the backless
chair, produced a short black pipe from a crossbeam overhead, and
rewarded himself with a few long puffs.
When Uncle Ith had a pipe in his mouth, he became didactic, and he
therefore proceeded to renew his donations of valuable advice to his
nephew, who was still looking hard out of the southeast window.
Bog cocked his head on one side, to make a show of listening, and said
"Yes, sir," now and then, which was all that his uncle expected of him.
But his whole mind, and his heart, were in the little double-windowed
room, where Pet was now practising upon the piano. Through the
uncurtained glass, Bog could see her hands weaving music with the keys,
and almost fancy he could hear it. The inventor bent over his machine,
and plied the hammer, the chisel, and the file, on various parts of it.
Now and then he would pause, stand erect, and look proudly toward his
child, and keep time to her music with inclinations of his head. Bog,
without knowing it, would do the same thing.
While the boy was gloating over this scene, unconscious of the swift
passage of time, the clock on the nearest church struck nine.
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