for a toy? Deed now I don't think he worries his-self much about it.

JANE.

[Aside.]

Poor Robbie.

[To Mrs. Granahan.]

Robbie's a poor hand at the farming, Mrs. Granahan.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Snappishly.]

Och aye. But he's greatly mended since he giv up playin'.

JANE.

Yes. He's a very poor farmer. But he was a wonder with his fiddle.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Oh well. It canna' be helped. He's better wi'out.

JANE.

I don't know.

[She goes over and takes down the fiddle seats herself and draws the bow across it as it lies on her lap.]

Robbie could have made it speak to you. He used to make me cry, and then laugh after it.

[She places the strings near her ear and thumbs it wrapt in thought.]

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Looking contemptuously at her and then rising.]

You just stay here a second till I fix the tay.

[She goes into room. Jane remains seated where she is, occasionally touching the strings and seemingly deep in thought.

Robbie John pa.s.ses window. He looks in and then goes quickly to door and enters.]

ROBBIE JOHN.

Who's that fiddlin'?

[Goes over to Jane.]

Why it's you. I heard you were come.

JANE.

Yes. I'm just in a minute or two.

[He sits down beside her.]

Robbie.

ROBBIE JOHN.

Well?

JANE.

Answer me one question. Aren't you a very poor farmer?

ROBBIE JOHN.

Well--I--I suppose I am.

JANE.

I knew you were. You're no good for selling cattle or going to market, or looking after crops.

ROBBIE JOHN.

You're very hard Jane to-night. What's put all that into your wee head?

JANE.

I've been listening to this and its been tellin' stories on you.