THE BLIND HARPER
The dame-school, which was about a mile from the village, was a long, low house with a thatched roof. It was sheltered by a few old oaks, under which the grandparents and great-grandparents of the children now at school had played long ago. The play-green sloped down from the front of the school, and was enclosed by a rough paling. The children obeyed and loved the dame who taught them, for she was ever quick to praise them when they did well, and to give them all the pleasure she could. Susan had been taught by her, and the dame often told her little pupils that they must try to be like her, wise and modest, gentle and kind. As she now opened the gate, she heard the merry voices of the little ones, and saw them streaming out of the narrow door and scattering over the green.
"Oh, there's Susan!" cried her two little brothers, running, leaping and bounding up to her; and many of the other rosy boys and girls crowded round her to tell of their games.
Susan always liked to hear of all that made others happy, but she had to tell the children that if they all spoke at once she would not be able to hear what any of them said. The voices were still raised one above the other, all eager to tell about ninepins, or marbles, or tops, or bows and arrows, when suddenly music was heard. The children at once became silent, and looked round to see whence the sound came. Susan pointed to the great oak-tree, and they saw, sitting under its shade, an old man playing upon his harp. The children all drew near quietly, for the music was solemn; but as the harper heard little footsteps coming towards him, he played one of his more lively tunes. The merry troop pressed nearer and nearer to the old man. Then some of those who were in front whispered to each other, "He is blind." "What a pity!" "He looks very poor." "What a ragged coat he wears!" "He must be very old, for his hair is white; and he must have come a long way, for his shoes are quite worn out."
All this was said while the harper tuned his harp. When he once more began to play, not a word was spoken, but every now and again there was a cry of delight. The old man then let the children name the airs they would like best to hear. Each, time Susan spoke, he turned his face quickly to where she stood, and played the tune she asked for over and over again.
"I am blind," he said, "and cannot see your faces, but I can tell something about each of you by your voices."
"Can you indeed?" cried Susan's little brother William, who was now standing between the old man's knees. "It was my sister Susan who spoke last. Can you tell us something about her?"
"That I can, I think," said the harper, lifting the little boy on his knee. "Your sister Susan is good-natured."
William clapped his hands.