“The air is pleasant and very quaint. It deserves better words. Will you remain here whilst I run for my violin?”
“Yes, unless my aunt calls me within.”
Walter Bramber hastened to his lodgings, and brought away his cherished instrument. He made the girl sing over a few verses of the song, and then struck in with the violin.
He speedily caught the melody, and played it, then went off into variations, returning anon to the pleasant theme, and Kate listened in surprise and admiration. Never before had she thought that there was much of air, or of grace and delicacy in the tune as sung by her father, and cast jeeringly at her in scraps by the youths of Coombe-in-Teignhead. Zerah looked out at the door and summoned her niece.
Kate started as from a dream.
“My bunch of flowers,” she said.
Bramber had secured the celandines.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SPIRIT OF INQUIRY
Kate entered the house, at the summons of her aunt, and found that John Pooke was within, standing with his hat in his hand, in front of him, twirling it about and playing with the string that served to contract the lining band.
“I am so glad to see that you are well, Kitty.”