the motion. She had scarce
disappeared, when Isaiah, who faced the green door, sung out,

"Here's Ezra Gold, and bringin' a fiddle, too. Good-evenin', Mr. Gold.
Beest gooin' to tek another turn at the music?"

"No," said Ezra, advancing. "I expected to find Reuben here. I've got it
on my mind as the poor old lady here "--he touched the green baize bag
he carried beneath his arm--"is in a bit o' danger o' losin' her voice
through keeping silence all these length o' years, and I want him to see
what sort of a tone her's got left in her."

Reuben rose from his seat with sparkling eyes and approached his uncle.

"Is that _the_ old lady I've heard so much about?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Ezra, "it's the old lady herself. I don't know," he went
on, looking mildly about him, "as theer's another amateur player as I'd
trust her to. Wait a bit, lad, while I show her into daylight."

Reuben stood with waiting hands while the old man unknotted the strings
at the mouth of the green baize bag, and all eyes watched Ezra's lean
fingers. At the instant when the knot was conquered and the mouth of the
bag slid open, Ruth's clear voice was heard calling,

"Father, here's Aunt Rachel! Come this way, Aunt Rachel. We're going to
have a little music."

CHAPTER VI.

Ezra Gold, seizing the violin gently by the neck, suffered the green
baize bag to fall to the ground at his feet, and then tenderly raising
the instrument in both hands, looked up and dropped it to the ground. A
little cry of dismay escaped from Reuben's lips, and he was on his knees
in an instant.

"She's not hurt," he said, examining the violin with delicate care--
"not hurt at all."

Then he looked up, and at the sight of his uncle's face rose swiftly
to his feet. The old man's eyes were ghastly, and his cheeks, which had
usually a hectic flush of color too clear and bright for health, were of
a leaden gray. Ezra's hand was on his heart.

"Not hurt?" he said, in a strange voice. "Art sure she's not hurt, lad?
That's fortunate."

The color came back to his face as suddenly as it had disappeared.

"No," said Reuben, tapping the back of the fiddle lightly with his
finger-tips, and listening to the tone, though he kept his eyes fixed
upon his uncle's--"she's as sound as a bell."

"That's well, lad, that's well," said Ezra, in the same strange voice.
The hands he reached out towards his nephew trembled, and Reuben handed
back the precious instrument in some