She passed down the bank into the house, then through the large living-room, speckless in its thrifty order, into a longer room that joined house to mill. She glanced at the tall clock that stood beside the door. "Mercy me!" she cried, "it's time my own work was done. But I'll just step in and see--" She opened the door leading to the mill and stood silent. A neat little man with cheery, rosy face, clean-shaven, and with a mass of curly hair tinged with grey hanging about his forehead, was seated upon a chair tipped back against the wall, playing a violin with great vigour and unmistakable delight.
"The mill's a-workin', mother," he cried without stopping his flying fingers, "and I'm keepin' my eye upon her."
She shook her head reproachfully at her husband. "Ay, the mill is workin' indeed, but it's not of the mill you're thinking."
"Of what then?" he cried cheerily, still playing.
"It is of that raising and of the dancing, I'll be bound you."
"Wrong, mother," replied the little man exultant. "Sure you're wrong. Listen to this. What is it now?"
"Nonsense," cried the woman, "how do I know?"
"But listen, Elsie, darlin'," he cried, dropping into his Irish brogue. "Don't you mind--" and on he played for a few minutes.
"Now you mind, don't you?"
"Of course, I mind, 'The Lass o' Gowrie.' But what of it?" she cried, heroically struggling to maintain her stern appearance.
But even as she spoke her face, so amazing in its power of swiftly changing expression, took on a softer look.
"Ah, there you are," cried the little man in triumph, "now I know you remember. And it's twenty-four years to-morrow, Elsie, darlin', since--" He suddenly dropped his violin on some meal bags at his side and sprang toward her.
"Go away with you." She closed the door quickly behind her.
"Whisht now! Be quate now, I'm sayin'. You're just as foolish as ever you were."
"Foolish? No mother, not foolish, but wise yon time, although it's foolish enough I've been often since. And," he added with a sigh, "it's not much luck I've brought you, except for the boys. They'll do, perhaps, what I've not done."
"Whisht now, lad," said his wife, patting his shoulder gently, for a great tenderness flowed over her eloquent face. "What has come to you to-day? Go away now to your work," she added in her former tone, "there's the hay waiting, you know well. Go now and I'll watch the grist."
"And why would you watch the grist, mother?" said a voice from the mill door, as a young man of eighteen years stepped inside. He was his mother's son. The same swarthy, rugged face, the same deep-set, sombre eyes, the same suggestion of strength in every line of his body, of power in every move he made and of passion in every glance. "Indeed, you will do no such thing. Dad'll watch the grist and I'll slash down the hay in no time. And do you know, mother," he continued in a tone of suppressed excitement, "have you heard the big news?" His mother waited. "He's coming home to-day.
He's coming with the Murrays, and Alec will bring him to the raising."
A throb of light swept across the mother's face, but she only said in a voice calm and steady, "Well, you'd better get that hay down.
It'll be late enough before it is in."
"Listen to her, Barney," cried her husband scornfully. "And she'll not be going to the raising today, either. The boy'll be home by one in the morning, and sure that's time enough."
Barney stood looking at his mother with a quiet smile on his face.
"We will have dinner early," he said, "and I'll just take a turn at the hay."
She turned and entered the house without a word, while he took down the scythe from its peg, removed the blade from the snath and handed it to his father.
"Give it a turn or two," he said; "you're better than me at this."
"Here then," replied his father, handing him the violin, "and you're better at this."
"They would not say so to-night, Dad," replied the lad as he took the violin from his father's hands, looking it over reverently. In a very few minutes his father came back with the scythe ready for work; and Barney, fastening it to the snath, again set off up the lane.
