But suddenly out of his selections, Luigi began that ancient tune, “A Life on the Ocean Wave, A Home on the Rolling Deep”–and then disaster!
Almost as distinctly as if he stood there before her in the flesh, forsaken Glory saw her grandfather’s beloved form; clad in his well-kept old uniform, buttons shining, head thrown back, gilt-trimmed cap held easily in his wrinkled hand, with Bos’n sitting gravely upright beside him. There he stood, in her fancy; and the vision well-nigh broke her heart. Then down upon the grass she flung herself and all her brave self-repression gave way before the flood of homesick longing which besieged her.
Nobody quite understood what ailed her, though from having heard the captain sing that melody he had just ground out, Luigi dimly guessed. But the effect upon all was that there had been quite music enough for the time being, and Mary showed her wisdom by drawing the company away, counseling:
“Let her have her cry out. She’s kep’ in brave an’ ’twill do her good. More good’n a lickin’!” she finished, with a lunge at her eldest son, who was fast changing his playful cuffs of a twin into blows which were not playful; and all because between Jocko and that twin was already developing considerable interest, which the bigger boy wished to fix upon himself.
“Well now, ma! What for? ’Tain’t every day a monkey comes a visitin’ here an’ he’s had him long enough. My turn next, an’ that’s fair,” protested Dennis, junior, namesake of the gardener.
“No more it isn’t, an’ me forgettin’ my manners after the fine music he’s give us. Look up, Glory, an’ ask the gentleman, Looeegy yon, would he like a bite to eat.”
The girl raised her face, already ashamed of crying before other people, and instantly eager to do something for this visitor from “home”; and when she had repeated Mary’s invitation to Luigi the smiles came back to her own face at the smiles which lightened his.
Alas! It wasn’t very much of the good dinner was left, after the cat and her kittens had done with it, but such as remained was most welcome to the poor Italian. Accustomed to a dry loaf of bread washed down with water from the roadside, even the remnants of Mary Fogarty’s food seemed a feast to him; and he enjoyed it upon the door-step with Glory at his feet and Jocko coming in for whatever portion his master thought best to spare.
Afterward, comforted and rested, he would have repaid his hostess by another round of his melodies; but this, much to the disgust of seven small lads, Take-a-Stitch prevented.
Leading the organ-grinder from the threshold of the cottage to the tree beyond it, Glory made Luigi sit down again and answer every question she put to him; and though he did not always comprehend her words, he did her gestures, so that, soon, she had learned all he knew of the Lane since she had left it until the previous day when he had done so.