ll very well to go playing and playing, but that's not doing
anything; and, if _he_ had done nothing, there would ha' been no
fiddling. You understand me, miss, I know: work comes before music, and
makes the soul of it; it's not the music that makes the doing. I'm a
poor hand at saying without my fiddle, miss: you'll excuse me."

Mary's heart was throbbing. She had not heard a word like this--not
since her father went to what people call the "long home"--as if a home
could be too long! What do we want but an endless home?--only it is not
the grave! She felt as if the spirit of her father had descended on the
strange workman, and had sent him to her. She looked at him with
shining eyes, and did not speak. He resumed, as fearing he had not
conveyed his thought.

"What I think I mean is, miss, that, if the working of miracles in his
name wouldn't do it, it's not likely playing the fiddle will."

"Oh, I understand you so well!" said Mary, in a voice hardly her own,
"--so well! It makes me happy to hear you! Tell me what I can do for
you."

"The poor gentleman in there must want all the help you can give him,
and more. There must be something left, surely, for a man to do. He
must want lifting at times, for instance, and that's not fit for either
of you ladies."

"Thank you," said Mary, heartily. "I will mention it to Mrs. Helmer,
and I am sure she will be very glad of your help sometimes."

"Couldn't you ask her now, miss? I should like to know at what hour I
might call. But perhaps the best way would be to walk about here in the
evening, after my day's work is over, and then you could run down any
time, and look out: that would be enough; I should be there. Saturday
nights I could just as well be there all night."

To Tom and Letty it seemed not a little peculiar that a man so much a
stranger should be ready to walk about the street in order to be at
hand with help for them; but Mary was only delighted, not surprised,
for what the man had said to her made the thing not merely
intelligible, but absolutely reasonable.

Joseph was not, however, allowed to wander the street. The arrangement
made was, that, as soon as his work was over, he should come and see
whether there was anything he could do for them. And he never came but
there was plenty to do. He took a lodging close by, that he might be
with them earlier, and stay later; and, when nothing else was wanted of
him, he was always ready to discourse on his violin.