thin, pale boy, of twelve, with blue eyes, and a good forehead
under the rough, neglected hair; an anxious, scared face, at times,
as if he expected hard words, or blows; and a sensitive mouth that
trembled when a kind glance fell on him; while a gentle speech
called up a look of gratitude, very sweet to see. "Bless the poor
dear, he shall fiddle all day long if he likes," said Mrs. Bhaer to
herself, as she saw the eager, happy expression on his face when
Tommy talked of the band.

So, after supper, when the lads flocked into the schoolroom for
more "high jinks," Mrs. Jo appeared with a violin in her hand, and
after a word with her husband, went to Nat, who sat in a corner
watching the scene with intense interest.

"Now, my lad, give us a little tune. We want a violin in our band,
and I think you will do it nicely."

She expected that he would hesitate; but he seized the old fiddle at
once, and handled it with such loving care, it was plain to see that
music was his passion.

"I'll do the best I can, ma'am," was all he said; and then drew the
bow across the strings, as if eager to hear the dear notes again.

There was a great clatter in the room, but as if deaf to any sounds
but those he made, Nat played softly to himself, forgetting every
thing in his delight. It was only a simple Negro melody, such as
street-musicians play, but it caught the ears of the boys at once,
and silenced them, till they stood listening with surprise and
pleasure. Gradually they got nearer and nearer, and Mr. Bhaer