spirit of music, the tricksy Ariel imprisoned in the old wooden case;
then he began to play "Rosin the Beau." As he played, he kept his eyes
fixed on the bend of the road some rods ahead, as if expecting every
moment to see some one appear from the direction of the village.

"I've travelled this country all over,
And now to the next I must go;
But I know that good quarters await me,
And a welcome for Rosin the Beau."

As he played, with bold but tender touch, the touch of a master, round
the corner a figure came flying,--a child's figure, with hair all
afloat, and arms wide-opened. The old man's face lightened, softened,
became transfigured with joy and love; but he said no word, only
played steadily on.

"Rosin!" cried Melody, stopping close before him, with outstretched
arms. "Stop, Rosin; I want to kiss you, and I am afraid of hurting
her. Put her down, do you hear?" She stamped her foot imperiously, and
the old man laid the fiddle down and held out his arms in turn.

"Melody," he said tenderly, taking the child on his knee,--"little
Melody, how are you? So you heard old Rosin, did you? You knew the old
man was here, waiting for his little maid to come and meet him, as she
always has. Where were you, Melody? Tell me, now. I didn't seem to
hear you till just as you came to the corner; I didn't, now."

"I was down by the heater-piece," said the child. "I went to look for
wild strawberries, with Aunt Vesta. I heard you, Rosin, the moment you
laid your bow across her; but Aunt Vesta said no, she knew it was all