watching of the scene before him, "have you nothing better to do
this morning than to listen to this minstrel fellow?"

"Oh, Simeon! Why, yes, of course. I--I forgot--what I was doing,"
faltered Mrs. Holly, flushing guiltily from neck to brow as she
turned and hurried into the house.

David, on the porch steps, seemed to have heard nothing. He was
still playing, his rapt gaze on the distant sky-line, when Simeon
Holly turned upon him with disapproving eyes.

"See here, boy, can't you do anything but fiddle?" he demanded.
Then, as David still continued to play, he added sharply: "Did
n't you hear me, boy?"

The music stopped abruptly. David looked up with the slightly
dazed air of one who has been summoned as from another world.

"Did you speak to me, sir?" he asked.

"I did--twice. I asked if you never did anything but play that
fiddle."

"You mean at home?" David's face expressed mild wonder without a
trace of anger or resentment. "Why, yes, of course. I couldn't
play ALL the time, you know. I had to eat and sleep and study my
books; and every day we went to walk--like tramps, as you call
them," he elucidated, his face brightening with obvious delight
at being able, for once, to explain matters in terms that he felt
sure would be understood.