posed it knew boys, but it felt inclined to change its mind after seeing this one. Second, because of the circumstances. The boy and his father had entered the town like tramps,

indeed, as little as possible was said to David about anything after that morning when Higgins had given him his father's letter. At that time the men had made one more effort to "get track of SOMETHING," as Higgins had despairingly put it. But the

s unreadable. His notes told nothing; his son could tell little more-of consequence. A report, to be sure, did come from the village, fa

Holly mentally declared that he should lose no time

ins preparatory to driving from the yard, ha

all we leave him here till we

o," hesitated Simeon Hol

in the background, ha

rged. "I'm sure he-he won't b

arkly. "Neither, it is safe to say, wi

"If I thought he'd be worth his salt, now, I'd take him myself; but-

g a word of what was being said. With his sensitive face

tion as the noisy hum of voices had not been able to

me what to do," he breath

mewhat awkwardly silent men, he

e. Besides, I've GOT to stay to find out about the beautiful world, you know, so I can tell him, when I go. That's the way I used to do back home on the mountain, you s

quick, stern voic

s, and the sky, and the birds and squirrels and brooks are really in my violin, you know. And-" But with an angry frown Simeon Holly stalked away, motioning Larson to follow him; and with a merry glan

had resorted the night before, to the everyday things of her world in the hope t

hand. Suddenly he looked up, a new something in his eyes. "What is it

mered Mrs. Holly. "But never mind that, Da

a smouldering fire beginning to show in

Mrs. Holly soothingly. "The

is it to b

y desperately;-"walk along the road from one town

lots of times, in the summer, we didn't stay in the cabin hardly any-just lived out of doors all day and all night. Why, I never knew r

ees?" stammered Mr

f you've only heard them daytimes, you don't know a bit what pine trees really are. But I can tell you. Listen! This is what they say," fi

yes half-fearfully, half-longingly fixed on David's glorified face. She was st

tern watching of the scene before him, "have you nothing bett

s doing," faltered Mrs. Holly, flushing guiltily from

e was still playing, his rapt gaze on the distant sky-line

" he demanded. Then, as David still continued to

up with the slightly dazed air of one who

ak to me, si

f you never did anythin

the time, you know. I had to eat and sleep and study my books; and every day we went to walk-like tramps, as you call them," he elucida

Then, sharply: "Did you never perform any useful labor, b

frowned in

d in the great Orchestra of Life; and that I was one, you know, even if I was only a little b

rrupted Simeon Holly, with harsh impatience. "

d I had a beautiful work to do, and that it was waiting for me out in the world. Tha

at it was. I was referring to work-real work

e a relie

at with father, only"-his face grew wistful-"I'm afraid I didn't do it very well. My baco

Well, boy, we call that women's work down here. We set men t

s,

you think you could fill it with wood from that woodpile?

is violin into its case. A minute later he had attacked the woodpile with

second armful of wood, David picked up a stick that had long lain in one position on the ground, thereby disclosing sundry and

ger sticks, to find other and bigger of the many-legged, many-jointed creatures. One, indeed, was so ve

ed; and David, sitting back on his woodpile seat, was left to wonder why she should scream and shudder and

and out into the garden, David delightedly following with soft-treading steps, and movements that would not startle. From the garden to the orchard, and from the orchard back to the garden danced the butterfly-

And you-you big spotted yellow one-you're laughing at me. Oh, I'm going to play you-all of you. You'll make such a pretty son

odbox, empty save for a few small sticks at the bottom. With an angry frown he strode through the outer door and around the corner of the house to the gar

ay you fill the woodbox?"

hook hi

as what I was playing? It's the flowers here that I'm playing-the little faces, like people, you know. See, this is that b

esture David stopped his melody in the middle of a

not playing-ri

rted Simeon Holly severely. "I'm talkin

face c

d do it," he nodded, gett

you to do

es grew pu

liged to explain what should be a self-evident fact; "but I saw so many beautiful things, one after

ady told you to fill the woodbox," rejoin

at I ought to have fil

rtain

s flew wide

play it at once. Songs are like the mists of the morning and the rainbows, you know, and they

fter a moment's following him with wistful eyes, soberly walked toward the kitchen do

y his thoughtful countenance and preoccupied air, however; nor were matt

cause I didn't fill the woodbox r

demanded the am

ient earnestness. "Father said-" But again Simeon Holly had turned irritab