He didn't notice when clouds began to form.
The birds flew in circles above us.
The wind pulled at our coats. The sky got very black.
We stood beneath a tree and watched a storm.
And now Mr. Beethoven has gone for the summer.
He will finish his symphony and then he will come back.
Dear Uncle, Mr. Beethoven came home last night.
And so, our house is in an uproar again.
Someone has given him a new piano and there's been a lot of trouble getting it up the stairs.
And then last night he had a party.
A lot of people went in and out very late, and the more cheerful they became, the noisier and more miserable it became for us.
Finally, it was impossible to sleep.
Upstairs they were excited about the symphony.
I could hear two ladies, and remembered I'd seen them laughing on the stairs.
They are called sopranos because they are singers who can sing very high.