“We wouldn’t mind a bit. I can’t think what Mamma will do if she hears nothing about us till morning.”
Jim’s young face looked very serious, but he offered no further comfort; and Frances, feeling that her low spirits might become infectious, tried to divert her mind by asking leave to look at a book-case against the wall near at hand. While she looked, and wondered a little at the class of books she found on the shelves, Jim fetched her a cup of hot coffee and placed it on a small table by her side. Frances was used to the companionship and natural attentions of well-bred lads, but it struck her that none of her boy-friends could have shown her more courteous respect than she was now receiving from this pleasant young rustic.
“Jim,” said the voice of the old grandfather, “fetch your fiddle, lad. Maybe the young folks might like to hear a tune.”
Austin grimaced expressively behind his hands, but only Max saw, and Max joined the girls in polite invitations to blushing Jim. The fiddle was brought from another room, and its owner, seating himself modestly in a dark corner, begged to know what tune the little ladies would like best. Florry, guessing that the performer’s repertory might be limited, suggested “Home, Sweet Home”.
Then Jim surprised his audience, for though his rendering was entirely simple, it showed an ear for rhythm, a taste for expression, and an unerring correctness of pitch.
“He does play in tune,” murmured Austin the critic, while the other children thanked the fiddler heartily.
Jim coloured with gratification to find himself approved, and willingly obliged his guests with all their favourite popular airs. By the time he had satisfied everybody the evening had worn far on; and Jim, yielding his fiddle into the hands of Austin, who longed to finger the instrument of his fellow-musician, went to hold a low-voiced consultation with his grandfather.
The result of this talk was the summoning of Frances to consider a plan of action, as proposed by the Easts.
“My grandson fears there’s no chance now of a way home for you to-night, Missy. The snow is too deep for any wise man to take a beast into without necessity. I’m thinking ’twere best if you settled yourselves down quiet-like, took a bit of supper, and made the best of what I can give you. There’ll be a tidy room upstairs for the missies, and the young masters will sleep soundly on yonder big couch. ’Tis all I can do.”
“Indeed, you are very kind,” said Frances. “Of course we shall do splendidly. It’s only because of our friends that we mind. My mother is all alone—except for servants,—and she will be so frightened. Then there are Florry’s parents, and the Doctor.”