cloak. I had it back. And that has happened to me almost every time. I almost always get my things back. And I always feel that something looks after me, do you know: almost takes care of me."
"But do you mean when you lose things—or in your life?"
"I mean when I lose things—or when I want to get something I want—I am very nearly always successful. And I always feel there is some sort of higher power which does it for me."
"Finds your cloak for you."
"Yes. Wasn't it extraordinary? I felt when I saw my cloak in Scotland Yard: There, I knew I should recover you. And I always feel, as I say, that there is some higher power which helps me. Do you feel the same?"
"No, not that way, worse luck. I lost a batch of music a month ago which didn't belong to me—and which I couldn't replace. But I never could recover it: though I'm sure nobody wanted it."
"How very unfortunate! Whereas my fur cloak was just the thing that gets stolen most."
"I wished some power would trace my music: but apparently we aren't all gifted alike with guardian angels."
"Apparently not. And that is how I regard it: almost as a gift, you know, that my fairy godmother gave me in my cradle."
"For always recovering your property?"
"Yes—and succeeding in my undertakings."
"I'm afraid I had no fairy godmother."
"Well—I think I had. And very glad I am of it."
"Why, yes," said Aaron, looking at his hostess.
So the dinner sailed merrily on.
"But does Beethoven make you feel," said Aaron as an afterthought, "in the same way—that you will always find the things you have lost?"
"Yes—he makes me feel the same faith: that what I lose will be returned to me. Just as I found my cloak. And that if I enter into an undertaking, it will be successful."
"And your life has been always successful?"
