He was walking slowly now toward the house.

His head was bowed.

His step lagged.
"Now, ain't that jest like that chap," muttered the man, "ter slink off like that as if he was a whipped cur.

I'll bet two cents an' a doughnut, too, that in five minutes he'll be what he calls 'playin' it' on that 'ere fiddle o' his.

An' I'll be derned, too, if I ain't curious ter see what he WILL make of it.