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 wo n'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 do n't make it -- it makes itself -- it just comes , '' said Ted , a dreamy gaze coming into his big black eyes .
The caller looked XXXXX him closely .
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