"What is the matter with you, Samuel?" asked his wife.
"I've seen her," he gasped. "Don't ask no more questions."
Now when he was gone, little Joe, filled with terror—not at the apparition, which he had not seen, for his eyes were too dazed to behold it, but with apprehension of the chastisement that awaited him, scrambled out of the window and dropped on the pigsty roof, and from thence jumped to the ground.
Then he ran—ran as fast as his legs could carry him, still hugging his instrument—to the churchyard; and on reaching that he threw himself on his mother's grave and sobbed: "Oh, mammy, mammy! father wants to beat me and take away my beautiful violin—but oh, mammy! my violin won't play."
And when he had spoken, from out the grave rose the form of his lost mother, and looked kindly on him.
Joe saw her, and he had no fear.
"Mammy!" said he, "mammy, my violin cost three shillings and sixpence, and I can't make it play no-ways."
