ch sounds out of
the instrument the moment he got it safely cuddled under his cheek. So
dirty were they, that it was said Dooble Sanny never required to carry
any rosin with him for fiddler's need, his own fingers having always
enough upon them for one bow at least. Yet the points of those fingers
never lost the delicacy of their touch. Some people thought this was
in virtue of their being washed only once a week--a custom Alexander
justified on the ground that, in a trade like his, it was of no use to
wash oftener, for he would be just as dirty again before night.

The moment he began to play, the face of the soutar grew ecstatic. He
stopped at the very first note, notwithstanding, let fall his arms, the
one with the bow, the other with the violin, at his sides, and said,
with a deep-drawn respiration and lengthened utterance:

'Eh!'

Then after a pause, during which he stood motionless:

'The crater maun be a Cry Moany! Hear till her!' he added, drawing
another long note.

Then, after another pause:

'She's a Straddle Vawrious at least! Hear till her. I never had sic a
combination o' timmer and catgut atween my cleuks (claws) afore.'

As to its being a Stradivarius, or even a Cremona at all, the testimony
of Dooble Sanny was not worth much on the point. But the shoemaker's
admiration roused in the boy's mind a reverence for the individual
instrument which he never lost.

From that day the two were friends.

Suddenly the soutar started off at full speed in a strathspey, which was
soon lost in the wail of a Highland psalm-tune, giving place in its turn
to 'Sic a wife as Willie had!' And on he went without pause, till Robert
dared not stop any longer. The fiddle had bewitched the fiddler.

'Come as aften 's ye like, Robert, gin ye fess this leddy wi' ye,' said
the soutar.

And he stroked the back of the violin tenderly with his open palm.

'But wad ye hae ony objection to lat it lie aside ye, and lat me come
whan I can?'

'Objection, laddie? I wad as sune objeck to lattin' my ain wife lie
aside me.'

'Ay,' said Robert, seized with some anxiety about the violin as he
remembered the fate of the wife, 'but ye ken Elspet comes aff a' the
waur sometimes.'

Softened by the proximity of the wonderful violin, and stung afresh by
the boy's words as his conscience had often stung him before, for he
loved his wife dearly save when the demon of drink possessed him,
the tears rose in Elshender's eyes. He held out