Ambrose looked up from the violin he was re-stringing and sighed.  This task was taking him longer than he’d anticipated and he still had to make sure that Bolton received an answer to the message he’d left the evening before.  “Jasper,” Ambrose called, leaning to one side so that he could peer into the shop.

The young man in question looked up from the instrument he was setting on a shelf and tilted his head in a silent question.  Ambrose beckoned and he hopped off the stool he’d been standing on.  “Yes, master?” he asked, pushing red-brown locks out of his face.

“You may as well inform Master Bolton that I’ll be willing to take his daughter a pupil,” he said, shrugging indifferently.  “I’ve time enough in my schedule and the girl already has some talent.”

“Yes, sir,” Jasper said, nodding.  As he snatched his coat off the peg by the door, Ambrose smiled.  It was gratifying to see that Jasper was no longer the timid street urchin he’d been only a few years ago.  As his apprentice dashed outside, Ambrose set aside the instrument and returned to the main shop.

Smiling proudly, Ambrose murmured, “Of course, I knew there was more to him that met the eye.”  Even under all the dirt and shyness, he’d seen something in the boy that no one else would have – something he wanted to hone to a fine edge and then turn loose on the world.

Outside, Jasper glanced quickly to either direction and then dashed across the busy intersection between two carriages. Once again, his master had sent him on an errand and, as always, he had to walk the entire way. More precisely, he had to run, since he knew that Ambrose wanted him back in thirty minutes. His destination was building several blocks away from the corner where the music shop was located.

Jasper ducked under the arm of a fish-seller and dodged between a couple and a flower stall. The girl selling the flowers gasped and sent him an irritated look. However, Jasper didn’t notice because he was already squeezing between the customers outside of a toyshop.

The bells over the door chimed as Jasper careened by and the boy skidded to a halt. Sending an irritable glance over at the bells, he sighed and then continued his journey at a more sedate pace. “How he expects me to get there and back in thirty minutes and walk the whole way is beyond me,” he grumbled, ruffling his hair with one hand.

Eyes downcast, Jasper continued down the street and turned at the first corner he came to. Soon the buildings became further apart and the crowd thinned. He’d gone from the marketplace to the residential district, which meant he was nearly at his destination.

Looking up at the number on a building, he nodded and bounded up the steps to the front door. He rang the bell and then waited until it opened a moment later. The visage that greeted him was that of a woman who looked to be late middle aged. Of course, she may have looked more her age if she didn’t wear such a dour expression. “Good day,” he said, smiling weakly. “I’m sent from Master Ambrose Winters.”

“Don’t mumble, boy,” the lady said, ushering him inside. After closing the door firmly behind him, she said, “Wait here while I get Master Bolton.” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode down the hallway.

“I didn’t mumble,” Jasper said, rolling his eyes. It was true, but it was also something he was scolded for quite often. He was simply a naturally soft-spoken person. If people would only pay attention it wouldn’t make any difference, but most would much rather only listen with half an ear than give a young man like himself their undivided attention.

China tinkled softly in another room of the house and Jasper straightened, then buttoned the front of his coat. He had just finished brushing a bit of lint off the collar when an older gentleman appeared in the doorway. “Good day, sir,” Jasper said in a clear, crisp voice. “I’m sent by Master Winters.”

“Ah, yes,” the man said, nodding slightly. Tilting his head to one side, he asked, “And has the good master reached a decision?”

“He has,” Jasper replied, nodding. Smiling slightly, he said, “Master Winters asked me to tell you that he would be happy to take your daughter on as a student. She has a natural talent for song and such things should be nurtured in the young.”

“Excellent,” the man said, beaming at him. He repeated the word in a softer voice and then reached into a side pocket of his jacket. After a moment, he fished out a coin and handed it over to Jasper. “Thank you very much, my boy. You can tell Master Winters that Cecile will be there bright and early on Thursday.”

“I will, sir,” Jasper said in a softer voice. He bowed politely as Bolton opened the door and showed him out. Then he tucked the coin into his pocket, opened the buttons of his jacket and hurried off in the direction of the shop.

Not wanting to be scolded again, Jasper walked, albeit briskly, rather than running back to the shop. He paused at the flower vendor’s cart and bought a posy for Katherine. Then he nodded his thanks to the girl and hurried on his way.

When he finally arrived at the shop, he set the bouquet on the end of the counter for Katherine to find when she returned from school. Then he glanced around the small shop. Instruments of all types hung on the walls or sat on shelves. However, Master Ambrose was nowhere in view. Rather than wandering through the building, Jasper stayed where he was. “Master?” he called, brow furrowing.

“I expected you ten minutes ago,” a teasing voice said from the upper levels of the shop.

Jasper shrugged out of his jacket and then sent his master an indulgent smile as he appeared at the railing. “Then you shouldn’t have continued distracting me,” he said, tossing the jacket on the back of a chair behind the counter.

Ambrose came down the steps, grinning brightly. “Are you teasing me?” he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Would I do that?”

“I think you would,” Ambrose said, chuckling with glee. He held out a book to the boy and said, “A reward for good behavior: you may read this while I work on Master Prescott’s violin.”

Jasper’s mouth dropped open and then closed again. Clutching the book protectively to his chest, he said, “Thank you, master.”

“You’re welcome,” Ambrose said, shrugging his shoulders as though he’d done nothing to deserve thanks. He paced across the shop and lifted the broken violin from its case. As he carried the instrument toward the workshop, he said, “We’ll work on your studies this evening.”

He peered back into the room a moment later, when Jasper made no reply and smiled. The boy was already sitting on the stool behind the front counter, bent over the open book with a vacant expression. Ambrose waved a finger and the small bell on the countertop chimed.

“Yes, master,” the boy said without looking away from his book. “I’ll be ready.”

Ambrose chuckled softly as left Jasper to his reading. There was still much he had to finish before tomorrow and lessons to give that afternoon.  He didn’t seem to notice the small bouquet of flowers that Jasper had left on the counter for his daughter.