And sae I gang to the auld fact'ry there. It belangs to my
grannie, and sae does the yaird (garden). An' this hoose and yaird
was ance my father's, and sae he had that door throu, they tell me.
An' I thocht gin it suld be open, it wad be a fine thing for me, to
haud fowk ohn seen me. But it was verra ill-bred to you, mem, I
ken, to come throu your yaird ohn speirt leave. I beg yer pardon,
mem, an' I'll jist gang back, and roon' by the ro'd. This is my
fiddle I hae aneath my airm. We bude to pit back the case o' 't
whaur it was afore, i' my grannie's bed, to haud her ohn kent 'at
she had tint the grup o' 't.'
Certainly Miss St. John could not have understood the half of the
words Robert used, but she understood his story notwithstanding.
Herself an enthusiast in music, her sympathies were at once engaged
for the awkward boy who was thus trying to steal an entrance into
the fairy halls of sound. But she forbore any further allusion to
the violin for the present, and contented herself with assuring
Robert that he was heartily welcome to go through the garden as
often as he pleased. She accompanied her words with a smile that
made Robert feel not only that she was the most beautiful of all
princesses in fairy-tales, but that she had presented him with
something beyond price in the most self-denying manner. He took off
his cap, thanked her with much heartiness, if not with much polish,
and hastened to the gate of his grandmother's little garden.
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