bows upon his knees and chin in his hands, and sat to listen.

"Lend her to me, lad," he said, when his nephew laid the instrument
across his knees. "I don't know--I wonder--Let's see if there is any of
the old skill left." His face was gray and his hands shook as he held
them out. "Theer's almost a fear upon me," he said, as he took the
fiddle and tucked it beneath his chin. "No, no, I dar' not. I doubt the
poor thing 'ud shriek at me."

"Nonsense, uncle," answered Reuben, with a swift and subtle movement
of the fingers of the left hand, such as only a violin-player could
accomplish. "I doubt if there is such a thing as forgetting when once
you have played. Try."

"No," said the old man, handing back the fiddle. "I dar' not. I haven't
the courage for it. It's a poor folly, maybe, for a man o' my years to
talk o' breakin' his heart over a toy like that, and yet, if the tone
wasn't to come after all! That 'nd be a bitter pill, Reuben. No, no.
It's a thousand to one the power's left me, but theer's just a chance it
hasn't. I feel it theer." The gaunt left-hand fingers made just such a
strenuous swift and subtle motion as Reuben's had made a minute earlier.
"And yet it mightn't be." Reuben reached out the violin towards him, but
he recoiled from it and arose. "No, no. I dar'n't fail," he said, with a
gray smile. "I darn't risk it. Take her away, lad. No, lend her here. A
man as hasn't pluck enow in his inwards for a thing o' that kind--Lend
her here!"

He seized the instrument, tucked it once more beneath his chin, and
with closed eyes laid the bow upon the strings. His left foot, stretched
firmly out in advance of the right, beat noiselessly upon the turf, as
if it marked the movement of a prelude inaudible except to him. Then
the bow gripped the strings, and sounded one soft, long-drawn, melancholy
note. A little movement of the brows, a scarcely discernible nod of the
head marked his approval of the tone, and after marking anew the cadence
of that airy prelude he began to play. For a minute or more his resolve
and excitement carried him along, but suddenly a note sounded false and
he stopped.

"Ah-h-h!" he cried, shaking his head as if to banish the sound from his
ears, "take her, Reuben, take her. Give her a sweet note or two to
take the taste o' that out of her mouth. Poor thing! Strike up,
lad--anything. Strike up!"

Reuben dashed into "The Wind that Shakes the Barley!" and Ezra, with his
gaunt hands folded be