It was a warm, breezy night in early September, and Marian Paroo was hard at work giving a music lesson - not to one of River City's children (and a lot more of those came to her for lessons of late, ever since the townswomen had decided to accept her as one of their own) but to her beau, the reformed con man and de facto music professor Harold Hill.

Since the unconventional start of their courtship just over a month before, Marian had spent about two nights a week sitting beside Harold at the piano in her parlor, teaching him as much as she could to help him in his new station as bandleader. For although Harold Hill's Think System was turning out to be a remarkable (if inexplicable) success, they both knew that if Harold was to elevate his band to a level that could be appreciated by more than just the boys' parents, he was going to need some bona fide musical knowledge!

Although Marian didn't regard the Think System with nearly the level of skepticism as she once had, she was still a music teacher at heart, and she firmly maintained that Harold and the band members should know how to read music. After several lengthy discussions on the subject, Marian had helped Harold refine the system into one that would work more predictably and reliably – and a good deal of these refinements involved integrating genuine musical theory with Harold's innovations.

As it turned out, Harold did have some rudimentary knowledge to work from, as he had actually played the cornet as a child, but it was knowledge that had gone untapped for decades. Nevertheless, Marian was grateful not to be working from nothing at all. And as both Harold and Marian delighted in any chance to spend time in the other's company, their lessons together were never dull or unpleasant.

However, sometimes the task seemed so great that it overwhelmed them both. Marian could have taught him everything she knew about the piano, but she was just as ignorant as he was when it came to most other instruments, and she knew that she wasn't capable of providing a substitute for the conservatory education that he once claimed to have. Even so, while Harold had occasionally expressed some degree of worry over how he could ever learn enough to ensure his band's success, he had never allowed himself to become truly dismayed over it. Tonight, however, Harold flipped glumly through the various instruction books that had come with the order of instruments, frowning. Although Marian didn't enjoy seeing him in such a sullen mood, the practical part of her was, first and foremost, annoyed at the way he was hindering her attempts at a productive lesson.

"Harold, why don't you put those down?" Marian urged. "You're hardly going to be able to concentrate on what I'm teaching you if you insist on also studying five books at the same time!"

He looked up at her with a rather startled expression, as though she had interrupted some rather complicated ruminations, but true to form, he recovered quickly. "As always, you make a good point, darling." Harold immediately relegated the books to the top of the piano, although Marian couldn't help but notice that he continued to sneak occasional glances at them. Even though he was such a sophisticated man and more than a decade older than her, Harold could be so boyishly petulant at times, Marian reflected. And even in her irritation, she still found it rather endearing – what a fool she was for him!

Hoping that she now had his full attention, Marian began their lesson. "Um, why don't we start with something simple? Let's review intervals. I'll play it and you tell me what it is." She struck two keys on the piano, then turned to Harold for his answer.

He appeared to be deep in thought for precisely one second before declaring, rather uncertainly, that the interval was a third.

Marian shook her head and played it again. "I know you know this, remember what I taught you –"

Harold closed his eyes for a moment, humming a few notes under his breath. "Ah! A fifth!" he exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. "It's 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'... so it's a fifth."

Marian gave him a pleased smile. "I told you that you knew it. Now, this one?"

"Let's see... that really is a third this time, I think?" he ventured.

"Right again!" said Marian, feeling rather proud of him. Harold, however, had already begun staring at the instrument books again, his expression pensive. A flash of irritation flared up within her, and she was half prepared to give him a good scolding, but the look on his face gave her pause. In the past two months, Marian had spent a lot of time gazing at Harold's face – more time than she'd like to admit, lest she seem like a lovesick young girl – and she had rarely seen him look so troubled. It was obvious that Harold was not allowing his mind to wander for no reason; clearly, he was troubled by something, and it wouldn't be very kind of her to purposely make him feel worse.

"Is something the matter, dear?" Marian asked, gently placing a hand on his arm.

Harold shrugged, his expression still enigmatic. "Sometimes, I don't see how any of this is going to help me in leading the band," he replied. "It feels like I'm progressing so slowly."

"That attitude isn't going to help anything, Harold," Marian admonished lightly. "Yes, it will take time for you to become proficient, but you're already off to a good start – and I daresay you have a good deal more natural talent than some of the hopeless cases I've taught!"

A little smirk crept into the corners of Harold's mouth, and Marian flushed and pressed a hand to her lips as she realized the imprudence of her rash comment.

"I trust that you won't repeat that remark, Professor?" Marian attempted her primmest, coolest tone, but the giggle that ran underneath her words betrayed her amusement.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Harold replied with a little wink in her direction. Almost immediately afterward, though, his face fell again as his previous discouragement came back to him. "Talent or no, what I was trying to say was – even if I can identify, say, a C in the score, and find it on a piano, I'll still have to know how a C is played on a clarinet, a french horn, a tuba, a flute... and that's just one single note." He grabbed a clarinet instruction book and thumbed through the pages with a grimace. "I think I have a pretty good memory, but trying to learn all of these charts is a bit much – this valve, that hole, those levers – but what kind of a music professor am I if I don't know these things?"

Marian wasn't quite sure how to answer at first. After all, what did she know about leading a band? She had taken a look at those instruction books herself a few times, and what Harold was describing did sound as though it would be very difficult. But she considered it her duty to keep her beloved from getting discouraged, just as she had done the night when he had first been asked to conduct the band in public. She carefully considered Harold's dilemma, trying to chip a more manageable piece off the mountain of responsibility that loomed over him.

"I don't think what you said is necessarily true," said Marian, shifting herself on the bench so she could face him more easily as she spoke. "The boys must do their own part too, remember – they have the instruction books as well, and they're the ones who will be playing. You know, Winthrop is practicing constantly, even on days when he doesn't have band rehearsal, and if the other band members display the same level of dedication, they'll be playing wonderfully in no time at all. The boys' job is turn learn the ins and outs of their instruments, and it's your job to unify their individual efforts. You're not alone in this – you and the band are a team, of sorts."

"I have to know enough to help them when they ask for it, though. They're counting on me for that."

"Yes, but you have time, Harold. If you're expecting to learn everything all at once, it's going to seem a lot more difficult than it would otherwise. You have to take this one step at a time, and you'll get there eventually, I promise."

Harold grimaced, looking far from convinced by her words. "'Eventually' might not be soon enough."

Now Marian was growing exasperated with his vague, evasive comments. "Really, Harold, why don't you just tell me what's wrong and save me all the worry of wondering what it might be?"

Harold let out a long sigh. "I suppose I should have told you this sooner, but it never felt like the right time. Mayor Shinn came to see me yesterday after band practice, and, well, it looks like the band will be giving its first concert soon."

"How soon do you mean, exactly?" asked Marian, still trying to understand why this would be upsetting Harold so.

"The night of October 19th," Harold responded, sneaking an uncertain glance at her.

Nearly laughing in relief, Marian shook her head. "Why, that's over a month away! For heaven's sake, Harold, you had me thinking that he wanted the band to play next week. You'll be fine- I'll make sure of it."

Still, Harold didn't look convinced. "It feels like a test to me."

"Then you'll pass," Marian insisted. "And I'm not saying these things just to reassure you – it's simply the truth. These boys were able to give a concert – in a sense – without a single real lesson from you. Now that you're actually teaching them, they can only be improving. Have you given any thought to what music you'll have them play?"

Harold shook his head, chuckling. "Now that you mention it, that might have been a good place to start, but I haven't exactly been thinking too rationally about this whole thing. The boys've just about perfected the Minuet in G by now, and we're making good progress on Stars and Stripes Forever, but I suspect that we'll need about three more pieces before I can rightfully call it a concert."

Already, the wheels were turning in Marian's mind. While she didn't think of herself as a schemer, not when she had somebody like Harold as a basis for comparison, she was undeniably a planner. And though Harold had a tendency to overlook small details and steps as he aimed for some grandiose goal, Marian thrived on being meticulous. She could never have kept River City's library running so smoothly – and enjoyed doing it so much – if it weren't for her natural propensity toward organization.

"Why don't we spend, say, half an hour on theory, then, and for the second half of the lesson I can look at music with you?" Marian suggested. "Maybe we can even map out a rehearsal schedule for the next month. Once you see how you can go about this one step at a time, you won't have to worry at all."

Straightening up in his seat once again, Harold gave her a determined nod. "Well, you're the expert, and if you're so confident, I see no reason why I shouldn't be as well."

"You're always confident," Marian reminded him with a smile. "And isn't positive thinking a necessary facet of the Think System?"

"Right..." Suddenly, Harold's eyes were locked on hers again, blazing with playful challenge. "Wait, are you accusing me of being smug, Madam Librarian?"

Marian turned to him, feigning a gasp of shock. "I'd never accuse you of such a thing... after all, it's not an accusation if both parties know it to be entirely true, now is it?"

They stared at each other in silence for a brief moment before breaking down into laughter – which only intensified when Harold somehow managed to bang his elbow into the piano keys, producing a rather loud and dissonant noise. Their laughter had the wonderful effect of dispelling any of Harold's lingering apprehension – although it was hardly putting them on a path toward resuming their lesson!

Covering her eyes with her hands, Marian breathed in deeply, trying to bring a stop to her giggling. As she calmed, she realized that Harold had taken the opportunity to slide much closer to her than he had been a few minutes ago, his arm surreptitiously stealing around her waist. Even knowing that she ought to put a stop to such behavior straight away was not enough to keep Marian's body from flooding with warmth at the thrill of being so close to him.

When she met Harold's eyes again, she noticed that he was looking at her with a mischievous grin on his face, as if he were about to kiss her. As ever, the prospect being of kissed by Harold was extremely appealing to Marian, but with her mother right around the corner cooking dinner and Winthrop just outside, that would not be a wise course of action for either of them.

"Really, Harold," Marian laughed, "We are never going to get anything done if we keep this up." Just as he leaned in, she turned her face to the piano so her lips were out of reach. Still, she couldn't help the blush that warmed her face as she dropped her eyes to the keys once again.

"Now, where were we before we got sidetracked from our lesson?" She smoothed her hair and pushed her spectacles higher on her nose, hoping to appear less flustered than she felt.

"Sidetracked?" Harold asked. "Miss Marian, I think that the lesson that you've given me in the past few minutes will prove quite useful indeed." Ever so subtly, he allowed his fingertips to lightly brush her hand as he placed them on the keys beside hers, and Marian couldn't contain a tiny gasp. How was it that this man could so easily make her act like an infatuated teenager?

"Well, I'm happy to be of help," she replied a little too quickly, trying to maintain her composure.

"And," he whispered low in her ear, "I will have that kiss tonight, you know."

The feel of Harold's warm breath on her neck and the intensity of his declaration seemed to scatter Marian's thoughts instantly, and she had the thought that if she didn't take action soon, she'd be allowing Harold that kiss in very short order. Though it was a great effort, she finally managed to summon the presence of mind to slide a few inches away until they were once again sitting at a respectable distance.

At last, Marian felt comfortable enough to resume her position as teacher once again, and she nodded at Harold, all business. "Let's continue on with chords, shall we? Now, tell me which one of these three chords sounds wrong to you..."