Then he knew that he could play the Flowers of the Forest.

The Wind that Shakes the Barley cannot have been named from the barley after it was cut, but while it stood in the field: the Flowers of the Forest was of the gathered harvest.
He tried the air once over in the dark, and then carried his violin down to the room where Mr.and Miss Lammie sat.
'I think I can play 't noo, Mr.Lammie,' he said abruptly.
'Play what, callant ?' asked his host.
'The Flooers o' the Forest.' 'Play awa' than.' And Robert played--not so well as he had hoped.

I dare say it was a humble enough performance, but he gave something at least of the expression Mr.Lammie desired.

For, the moment the tune was over, he exclaimed, 'Weel dune, Robert man! ye'll be a fiddler some day yet!' And Robert was well satisfied with the praise.
'I wish yer mother had been alive,' the farmer went on.

'She wad hae been rael prood to hear ye play like that.