le face of the child lighted up with a smile of recognition and a
faint gleam of mirth.

"I jes' kem out ennyhows ter drive up the cow," Basil added.

"Big job," sneered Kennedy. "'Pears-like it takes the whole fambly to do
it."

Such slothful mismanagement was calculated to affront an energetic
spirit. Obviously, at this hour the woman should be at home cooking the
supper.

"I follered along ter listen ter the fiddle,--ef ye hev enny call ter
know." Mrs. Bedell replied to his unspoken thought, as if by divination.

But indeed such strictures were not heard for the first time. They were
in some sort the penalty of the disinterested friendship which Kennedy
had harbored for Basil since their childhood. He wished that his compeer
might prosper in such simple wise as his own experience had proved to be
amply possible. Kennedy's earlier incentive to industry had been his
intention to marry, but the object of his affections had found him "too
mortal solemn," and without a word of warning had married another man in
a distant cove. The element of treachery in this event had gone far to
reconcile the jilted lover to his future, bereft of her companionship,
but the habit of industry thus formed had continued of its own momentum.
It had resulted in forehanded thrift; he now possessed a comfortable
holding,--cattle, house, ample land; and he had all the intolerance of
the ant for the cricket. As Bedell lifted the bow once more, every
wincing nerve was enlisted in arresting it in mid-air.

"Mighty long tramp fur Bobbie, thar,--whyn't ye kerry him?"

The imperturbable calm still held fast on the musician's face. "Bob," he
addressed the toddler, "will you uns let daddy kerry ye like a baby?"

He swooped down as if to lift, the child, the violin and bow in his left
hand. The hardy youngster backed off precipitately.

"Don't ye _dare_ ter do it!" he virulently admonished his parent, a
resentful light in his blue eyes. Then, as Bedell sang a stave in a full
rich voice, "Bye-oh, Baby!" Bob vociferated anew, "Don't you _begin_ ter
dare do it!" every inch a man though a little one.

"That's the kind of a fambly I hev got," Basil commented easily. "Wife
an' boy an' baby all walk over me,--plumb stomp on me! Jes' enough lef
of me ter play the fiddle a leetle once in a while."

"Mighty nigh all the while, I be afeared," Kennedy corrected the phrase.
"How did yer corn crap turn out?" he asked, as he too fell into line
and the proce