ittle story opens. As night came on and the old man sat in the
doorway, he did not notice that little Tim, in stretching himself upon
the floor, as was his habit, came nearer than usual--so near, indeed,
that, extending his little foot, he rested it against his grandfather's
body, too lightly to be felt, and yet sensibly enough to satisfy his own
affectionate impulse. And so he was lying when the moon rose and covered
the old banjo with its light. He felt very serious as he gazed upon it,
standing out so distinctly in the dark room. Some day it would be his;
but the dear old grandfather would not be there, his chair would be
always empty. There would be nobody in the little cabin but just little
Tim and the banjo. He was too young to think of other changes. The
ownership of the coveted treasure promised only death and utter
loneliness. But presently the light passed off the wall on to the floor.
It was creeping over to where little Tim lay, but he did not know it,
and after blinking awhile at long intervals, and moving his foot
occasionally to reassure himself of his grandfather's presence, he fell
suddenly sound asleep.

While these painful thoughts were filling little Tim's mind the old man
had studied the bright panel on the wall with equal interest--and pain.
By the very nature of things he could not leave the banjo to the boy and
witness his pleasure in the possession.

"She's de onlies' thing I got ter leave 'im, but I does wush't I could
see him git 'er an' be at his little elbow ter show 'im all 'er ways,"
he said, half audibly. "Dis heah way o' leavin' things ter folks when
you die, it sounds awful high an' mighty, but look ter me like hit's po'
satisfaction some ways. Po' little Tim! Now what he gwine do anyhow when
I draps off?--nothin' but step-folks ter take keer of 'im--step-mammy
an' step-daddy an' 'bout a dozen step brothers an' sisters, an' not even
me heah ter show 'im how ter conduc' 'is banjo. De ve'y time he need me
de mos' ter show 'im her ins an' outs I won't be nowhars about, an'
yit--"

As the old man's thoughts reached this point a sudden flare of light
across the campus showed that the first bonfire was lighted.

There was to be a big dance to-night in the open space in front of the
sugar-house, and the lighting of the bonfires surrounding the spot was
the announcement that it was time for everybody to come. It was Uncle
Tim's signal to take down the banjo and tune up, for there was no more