he
grandfather, is seated at fire place and has evidently just
finished his stirabout. The strains of a quaint folk-air
played on a violin, sound faintly from the inner room.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Is that the whole of them now Ellen?

ELLEN.

Yes that's all now but one.

[She goes across to grandfather and lifts
the plate.]

Have you finished granda?

GRANDFATHER.

Yes dearie I have done.

[He pauses and fumbles for his pipe, &c.]

Is'nt that a fiddle I'm hearing?

ELLEN.

Yes. Robbie's playing the fiddle in the low room.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Arranging plates on dresser and turning
round.]

I wish some one would stop that boy's fool nonsense wi' his fiddle.
He's far too fond o' playin'. It would stand him better to mind his
work.

[Calls.]

Robbie!

[Louder.]

D'you hear me Robbie?

ELLEN.

Oh, let the boy be, mother. Its the first time I've heard him at it
this week.

GRANDFATHER.

Och aye. Let the boy enjoy himself. You're only young wanst you know,
Mary.

ELLEN.

I think it must be a great thing to be a great musician. Sometimes I
believe Robbie should try his luck with that fiddle of his. Somehow
I know--I feel he _is_ a genius at it.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

What notions you do have to be sure. To think of a big grown man like
Robbie John spending his life-time at an old fiddle.

[Sharply.]

Blathers and nonsense. Its time that boy was out lookin' at the
cattle.

[Calls.]

Are you there Robbie?

[Louder.]

Robbie John.

ROBBIE JOHN.

[From without. The fiddle ceases suddenly
and he comes and stands with it in his
hand at the door.]

Aye.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

You'd better go down to the low field and see the cattle haven't
broken through into Aura Boyd's corn. You couldn't keep them beasts
in when the flies gets at them.

ROBBIE JOHN.

Just one second till I try this again.

MRS