f with a bare head stood there on foot, to welcome the poet to the
great feast.

With this the song ended, and with a grand sweep of the silver strings
Tiny gently arose, and hung the harp against the wall, and sat down
again with folded hands and blushing cheek, half frightened, now when
all was over, to think what he had done. The fire had vanished from his
eyes, and the red glow of his cheek went following after; and if you had
gone into Josiah's kitchen just then, you never would have guessed that
_he_ was the enchanter who had been raising such a storm of splendid
music.

At first the old man could not speak--tears choked his words. "Ahem,"
said he once or twice, and he cleared his voice with the intention of
speaking; but for a long time no words followed. At length he said,
shaking his head,--"It isn't like what I dreamed--it isn't like what I
dreamed;" and one would have supposed that the old man felt himself
guilty of a sin by the way he looked at Tiny, it was with so very sad a
look.

"But beautifuller," said the mother, "beautifuller, isn't it, Josiah!"

"Yes," answered Josiah; but still he spoke as if he had some secret
misgiving--as if he were not quite sure that the beauty of the song had
a right to do away with the sadness of his dream.

"But," said Tiny, timidly, yet as if determined that he would have the
matter quite settled now and for ever--"_am_ I a singer, father? _am_ I
a poet?"

Slowly came the answer--but it actually came, "Yes," with a broken voice
and troubled look, and then the old man buried his face in his hands, as
if he had pronounced some dreadful doom upon his only son.

"Then," said Tiny boldly, rising from his seat, "I must go into the
world. It says it needs me; and father, shall _your_ son hide himself
when any one in need calls to him for help? I never would have gone,
father, if you and mother had not said that I was a singer and a poet.
For you I know would never deceive me; and I made a vow that if ever a
time came when you should say that to me, then I would go. But this is
my home, father and mother; I shall never get another. The wide world
could not give me one. It is not rich enough to build me a home like
this."

"Don't speak in that way," said the old man; and he turned away that
Tiny should not see his face, and he bent his head upon the back of his
chair.

Presently Tiny went softly up to him and laid his hand upon Josiah's
arm, and his voice tremble