Ted's Afternoon Off Page #2

"Ted's Afternoon Off" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a charming short story that follows the adventures of a young boy named Ted who takes a break from his daily routine. As he navigates a series of playful escapades, Ted learns valuable lessons about curiosity, friendship, and the joys of childhood. The story captures the essence of innocence and imagination, showcasing Montgomery's signature style of heartfelt storytelling and vivid characterization. With a blend of humor and warmth, it celebrates the simple pleasures of life and the beauty of taking time for oneself.

• Short story

								

ache at all."

Ted took his violin and began to play. After all, it was almost as
good as a picnic to have a whole afternoon for his music. The stuffy
little room, with its dingy plaster and shabby furniture, was filled
with wonderful harmonies. Once he began, Ted could play for hours at a
stretch and never be conscious of fatigue. Jimmy lay and listened in
rapturous content while Ted's violin sang and laughed and dreamed and
rippled.

There was another listener besides Jimmy. Outside, on the red
sandstone doorstep, a man was sitting--a tall, well-dressed man with a
pale, beautiful face and long, supple white hands. Motionless, he sat
there and listened to the music until at last it stopped. Then he rose
and knocked at the door. Ted, violin in hand, opened it.

An expression of amazement flashed into the stranger's face, but he
only said, "Is Mrs. Ross at home?"

"No, sir," said Ted shyly. "She went over to White Sands and she won't
be back till night. But Jimmy is here--Jimmy is her little boy. Will
you come in?"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Ross is away," said the stranger, entering. "She was
an old nurse of mine. I must confess I've been sitting on the step out
there for some time, listening to your music. Who taught you to play,
my boy?"

"Nobody," said Ted simply. "I've always been able to play."

"He makes it up himself out of his own head, sir," said Jimmy eagerly.

"No, I don't make it--it makes itself--it just comes," said Ted, a
dreamy gaze coming into his big black eyes.

The caller looked at him closely. "I know a little about music
myself," he said. "My name is Blair Milford and I am a professional
violinist. Your playing is wonderful. What is your name?"

"Ted Melvin."

"Well, Ted, I think that you have a great talent, and it ought to be
cultivated. You should have competent instruction. Come, you must tell
me all about yourself."

Ted told what little he thought there was to tell. Blair Milford
listened and nodded, guessing much that Ted didn't tell and, indeed,
didn't know himself. Then he made Ted play for him again. "Amazing!"
he said softly, under his breath.

Finally he took the violin and played himself. Ted and Jimmy listened
breathlessly. "Oh, if I could only play like that!" said Ted
wistfully.

Blair Milford smiled. "You will play much better some day if you get
the proper training," he said. "You have a wonderful talent, my boy,
and you should have it cultivated. It will never in the world do to
waste such genius. Yes, that is the right word," he went on musingly,
as if talking to himself, "'genius.' Nature is always taking us by
surprise. This child has what I have never had and would make any
sacrifice for. And yet in him it may come to naught for lack of
opportunity. But it must not, Ted. You must have a musical training."

"I can't take lessons, if that is what you mean, sir," said Ted
wonderingly. "Mr. Jackson wouldn't pay for them."

"I think we needn't worry about the question of payment if you can
find time to practise," said Blair Milford. "I am to be at the beach
for two months yet. For once I'll take a music pupil. But will you
have time to practise?"

"Yes, sir, I'll make time," said Ted, as soon as he could speak at all
for the wonder of it. "I'll get up at four in the morning and have an
hour's practising before the time for the cows. But I'm afraid it'll
be too much trouble for you, sir, I'm afraid--"

Blair Milford laughed and put his slim white hand on Ted's curly head.
"It isn't much trouble to train an artist. It is a privilege. Ah, Ted,
you have what I once hoped I had, what I know now I never can have.
You don't understand me. You will some day."

"Ain't he an awful nice man?" said Jimmy, when Blair Milford had gone.
"But what did he mean by all that talk?"

"I don't know exactly," said Ted dreamily. "That is, I seem to feel
what he meant but I can't quite put it into words. But, oh, Jimmy, I'm
so happy. I'm to have lessons--I have always longed to have them."

"I guess you're glad you didn't go to the picnic?" said Jimmy.

"Yes, but I was glad before, Jimmy, honest I was."

Blair Milford kept his promise. He interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Jackson
and, by means best known to himself, induced them to consent that Ted
should take music lessons every Saturday afternoon. He was a pupil to
delight a teacher's heart and, after every lesson, Blair Milford
looked at him with kindly eyes and murmured, "Amazing," under his
breath. Finally he went again to the Jacksons, and the next day he
said to Ted, "Ted, would you like to come away with me--live with
me--be my boy and have your gift for music thoroughly cultivated?"

"What do you mean, sir?" said Ted tremblingly.

"I mean that I want you--that I must have you, Ted. I've talked to Mr.
Jackson, and he has consented to let you come. You shall be educated,
you shall have the best masters in your art that the world affords,
you shall have the career I once dreamed of. Will you come, Ted?"

Ted drew a long breath. "Yes, sir," he said. "But it isn't so much
because of the music--it's because I love you, Mr. Milford, and I'm so
glad I'm to be always with you."
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes