"I've been up and down the earth," the old man replied,--"up and down
the earth, Melody. Sometimes here and sometimes there. I'd feel a call
here, and I'd feel a call there; and I seemed to be wanted, generally,
just in those very places I'd felt called to. Do you believe in calls,
Melody?"

"Of course I do," replied the child, promptly. "Only all the people
who call you can't get you, Rosin, 'cause you'd be in fifty pieces if
they did." She laughed joyously, throwing her head back with the
birdlike, rapturous motion which seemed the very expression of her
nature.

The old fiddler watched her with delight. "You shall hear all my
stories," he said; "everything you shall hear, little Melody; but here
we are at the house now, and I must make my manners to the ladies."

He paused, and looked critically at his blue coat, which, though
threadbare, was scrupulously clean. He flecked some imaginary dust
from his trousers, and ran his hand lightly through his hair, bringing
the snowy curl which was the pride of his heart a little farther over
his forehead. "Now I'll do, maybe," he said cheerfully. "And sure
enough, there's Miss Vesta in the doorway, looking like a China rose
in full bloom." He advanced, hat in hand, with a peculiar sliding
step, which instantly suggested "chassez across to partners."

"Miss Vesta, I hope your health's good?"

Miss Vesta held out her hand cordially. "Why, Mr. De Arthenay,
[Footnote: Pronounced Dee arthenay] is this you?" she cried. "This is
a pleasure! Melody was sure it was you, and she ran off like a