Perhaps too kindly, too beautiful, too wonderful, and too undeserving of this, but also too polite, for Beane has not yet evicted his melodious squatter.

To say that he tried would be an understatement, as well, since he neither raised his voice nor used any words harsher than please, Miss Elena, surely the patrons at the Inn would appreciate your talent more, and Elena, I do not wish to be rude but I prefer to work in peace.

But, inevitably, the longer she's there, the more he finds himself tapping his foot along with the rhythm, or quietly humming along as he goes through the motions of candlemaking. Dip, drip, hang. Dip, drip, hang. Or something like that.

That he's able to keep working on filling out his stock speaks to how much business she's drummed up.