Can't you see the violin?
Shall I play here or come in ?" answered David, not one whit less eagerly.
The small girl opened her lips as if to explain something; but the boy in the window did not wait.
"Oh, come in.

WILL you come in ?" he cried unbelievingly.

"And will you just let me touch it--the fiddle?
Come! You WILL come?
See, there isn't anybody home, only just Betty and me." "Of course I will!" David fairly stumbled up the broken steps in his impatience to reach the wide-open door.

"Did you like it--what I played?
And did you know what I was playing?
Did you understand?
Could you see the cloud-boats up in the sky, and my Silver Lake down in the valley?
And could you hear the birds, and the winds in the trees, and the little brooks?
Could you?
Oh, did you understand?
I've so wanted to find some one that could! But I wouldn't think that YOU--HERE--" With a gesture, and an expression on his face that were unmistakable, David came to a helpless pause.
"There, Joe, what'd I tell you," cried the little girl, in a husky whisper, darting to her brother's side.

"Oh, why did you make me get him here?
Everybody says he's crazy as a loon, and--" But the boy reached out a quickly silencing hand.