Skinner's works
upon the book-shelves in the Deanery dining-room, but he saw no copy
of "Rome or the Bible-Which?"
"And are you still as fond of music as ever, Mr. Pontifex?" said
Miss Skinner to Ernest during the course of lunch.
"Of some kinds of music, yes, Miss Skinner, but you know I never did
like modern music."
"Isn't that rather dreadful? -Don't you think you rather"-she was
going to have added, "ought to?" but she left it unsaid, feeling
doubtless that she had sufficiently conveyed her meaning.
"I would like modern music, if I could; I have been trying all my
life to like it, but I succeed less and less the older I grow."
"And pray, where do you consider modern music to begin?"
"With Sebastian Bach."
"And don't you like Beethoven?"
"No; I used to think I did, when I was younger, but I know now
that I never really liked him."
"Ah! how can you say so? You cannot understand him- you never
could say this if you understood him. For me a simple chord of
Beethoven is enough. This is happiness."
Ernest was amused at her strong family likeness to her father -a
likeness which had grown upon her as she had become older, and which
extended even to voice and manner of speaking.
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