David, sitting on the steps, was watching the moon climb higher and higher above the tree-tops.

After a time he slipped into the house and came out with his violin.
At the first long-drawn note of sweetness, Simeon Holly opened his eyes and sat up, stern-lipped.

But his wife laid a timid hand on his arm.
"Don't say anything, please," she entreated softly.

"Let him play, just for to-night.

He's lonesome--poor little fellow." And Simeon Holly, with a frowning shrug of his shoulders, sat back in his chair.
Later, it was Mrs.Holly herself who stopped the music by saying: "Come, David, it's bedtime for little boys.