FRANCOIS
(to Andrew Smith).
It is mos' time that you had better be tuning up your fiddle, Andrew!
AMY ROBY
(to Nancy, who stands center, shielding her eyes, and looking towards background).
Isn't Abe coming?
NANCY LINCOLN
(shaking her head).
No, Abe isn't even in sight yet. But he'll surely be here as soon as he has finished splitting those rails.
ONE OF THE LITTLE GIRLS
(joyfully).
Andrew is beginning to play!
[Andrew Smith's fiddle gives out the first notes of a reel. Those who are bending at their various occupations begin to nod and trip. In an instant everything is dropped, and the young people are all for merriment. They begin, center of sward, a grand right and left. Andrew Smith stands at right fiddling with the greatest possible gusto.
As the dance ends, Andrew Smith points with his fiddle-bow to a figure seen approaching from the background, a tall, lank, kindly-faced boy, dressed like the others but with an ax over his shoulder.