"I've been up and down the earth," the old man replied,—"up and down the earth, Melody. Sometimes here and sometimes there. I'd feel a call here, and I'd feel a call there; and I seemed to be wanted, generally, just in those very places I'd felt called to. Do you believe in calls, Melody?"
"Of course I do," replied the child, promptly. "Only all the people who call you can't get you, Rosin, 'cause you'd be in fifty pieces if they did." She laughed joyously, throwing her head back with the birdlike, rapturous motion which seemed the very expression of her nature.
The old fiddler watched her with delight. "You shall hear all my stories," he said; "everything you shall hear, little Melody; but here we are at the house now, and I must make my manners to the ladies."
He paused, and looked critically at his blue coat, which, though threadbare, was scrupulously clean. He flecked some imaginary dust from his trousers, and ran his hand lightly through his hair, bringing the snowy curl which was the pride of his heart a little farther over his forehead. "Now I'll do, maybe," he said cheerfully. "And sure enough, there's Miss Vesta in the doorway, looking like a China rose in full bloom." He advanced, hat in hand, with a peculiar sliding step, which instantly suggested "chassez across to partners."
"Miss Vesta, I hope your health's good?"
Miss Vesta held out her hand cordially. "Why, Mr. De Arthenay, [Footnote: Pronounced Dee arthenay] is this you?" she cried. "This is a pleasure! Melody was sure it was you, and she ran off like a will-o'-the-wisp, when I could not hear a sound. But I'm very glad to see you. We were saying only yesterday how long a time it was since you'd been here. Now you must sit down, and tell us all the news. Stop, though," she added, with a glance at the vine-clad window; "Rejoice would like to see you, and hear the news too. Wait a moment, Mr. De Arthenay! I'll go in and move her up by the window, so that she can hear you."
She hastened into the house; and in a few minutes the blinds were thrown back, and Miss Rejoice's sweet voice was heard, saying, "Good-day, Mr. De Arthenay. It is always a good day that brings you."
The old man sprang up from his seat in the porch, and made a low bow to the window. "It's a treat to hear your voice, Miss Rejoice, so it is," he said heartily. "I hope your health's been pretty good lately? It seems to me your voice sounds stronger than it did the last time I was here."
"Oh, I'm very well," responded the invalid, cheerfully. "Very well, I
feel this summer; don't I, Vesta? And where have you been, Mr. De
Arthenay, all this time? I'm sure you have a great deal to tell us.
It's as good as a newspaper when you come along, we always say."
The old fiddler cleared his throat, and settled himself comfortably in a corner of the porch, with Melody's hand in his. Miss Vesta produced her knitting; Melody gave a little sigh of perfect content, and nestled up to her friend's side, leaning her head against his shoulder.