t shillings is a big price
for an old thing like that."

"Old fiddles are always worth more than new ones, Mrs. Holl. Do you know
there are some fiddles two or three hundred years old which could not be
bought for less than three or four hundred pounds?"

"My gracious!" Mrs. Holl exclaimed, "three or four hundred pounds for
such a thing as a fiddle. I calls it downright wicked."

"He is a wonderful boy that son of yours, Mrs. Holl," Frank said,
changing the subject; "a regular genius I should call him. What a pity
it is that he is a cripple!"

"Ay, that it is," Mrs. Holl agreed, "and he is a wonderful chap, is
Harry. But he ain't no son of mine, Mr. Norris, though he don't know it
himself, and I shouldn't like him to be told."

"Then what relation is he, Mrs. Holl, if it is not an impertinent
question?"

"He ain't no sort of relation at all, sir," the woman answered.

"Then how came you to bring him up, Mrs. Holl?" Frank asked in surprise.

"Well, sir, it was a very simple matter. But if so be as you care to
hear it, I will tell you just how it happened." And, leaning against the
mantelpiece, with the red light of the fire thrown up into her face,
Mrs. Holl went on very slowly, and speaking as though she almost saw
what she was relating.

"Well, sir, it were an evening in April--a cold bitter day. I was
sitting here between light and dark, drinking my tea with John, who was
just come home from work--John is my husband, you see, sir--when we
heard a noise outside in the street. We went out to see what was the
matter, and we found a poor young creature, with a baby in her arms, had
fallen down in a faint like.

"She was a pretty young thing, sir; and though her dress was poor and
torn, she looked as if she had not been always so. Some one says, 'Take
them to the workhouse.' 'No!' says I--for my heart yearned towards the
poor young thing--'bring her in here; mayn't we, John?' says I. Well,
sir, John did not say nothing, but he took the baby out of her arms and
gave it to me, and then he upped and took the poor young creature--she
were no great weight, sir--and carried her into the house, and laid her
on the bed, as it might be by the window there.

"Well, sir, that bed she never left; she came round a little, and lived
some days, but her mind were never rightly itself again. She would lay
there, with her baby beside her, and sing songs to herself; I don't know
what about, for it were some foreign language. She