I certainly do love music. Nothing cheers the heart like singing—unless it's the voice of the fiddle.
SUSY
(hopping up and down).
Play to us, Uncle Ned, play to us!
[Uncle Ned tucks his fiddle under his chin and begins to play. At first the air is chant-like, and has a strain of melancholy, then it grows gayer and gayer, until it turns into a dance tune. The children first stand about Uncle Ned in a circle, listening. Then they begin to dance, with swaying bodies and cries of delight. Here and there a girl and boy dance opposite each other, hands on hips. There should be five or six dancing groups in all. Uncle Ned finishes with a flourish, and turns towards left.
THE CHILDREN.
Play us another tune, Uncle Ned! Play us another tune!
UNCLE NED
(to a little girl who is especially imploring).
No, no, honey. There's work for me to do up yonder at the house.
[Goes off, left background.
AUNT RACHEL
(still swaying a little and nodding her head).