He did not stay at the big house, for some reason, but at the Eagle Hotel, whence he came to see his boys each day, or met them hurrying to see him.
And for a further reason which the little boys did not understand, their grandfather continued to be too busy to see this perfect father once during the week he stayed in the village.
Deeming it a pity that two such choice spirits should not be brought together, the little boy urged his father to bring his fiddle to the big house and play and sing some of his fine songs, so that his grandfather could have a chance to hear some good music.

He knew well enough that if the old man once heard this music he would have to give in and enjoy it, even if he was too busy to come down.

And if only his father would tune up the fiddle and sing that very, very good song about, "The more she said 'Whoa!' They cried, 'Let her go!' And the swing went a little bit higher," if only his grandfather could hear this, one of the funniest and noisiest songs in the world, perhaps he would come right down stairs.

But his father laughed away the suggestion, saying that the old gentleman had no ear for music; which, of course, was a joke, for he had two, like any person.
Clytemnestra, too, was at first strangely cool to the incomparable father, though at last she proved not wholly insensible to his charm, providing for his refection her very choicest cake and the last tumbler of crab-apple jelly.

She began to suspect that a man of manners so engaging must have good in him, and she gave him at parting the tracts of "The Dying Drummer Boy" and "Sinner, what if You Die To-day ?" for which he professed warm gratitude.
The little boy afterward saw his perfect father hand these very tracts to Milo Barrus, when they met him on the street, saying, "Here, Barrus, get your soul saved while you wait!" Then they laughed together.
The little boy wondered if this meant that Milo Barrus had come to the Feet, or been born again, or something.