MOTHER. I was going to suggest that she should live with us and
come and see _you_ sometimes.
TALKER (who has been thinking deeply). I have it! What say you to
this? For six months, making in all twenty-six weeks of the year,
she shall live, reside, dwell, or, as one might say, take up her
habitation with us; whereas for the other six months--(They have
been so busy discussing the future of the FIDDLER that they have
not noticed that she is no longer there. Suddenly the sound of the
fiddle is heard.) What's that?
[The FIDDLER comes in, wearing her cap now with the red feather in
it. She is playing a wild song, a song of the road. She is content
again. She goes up the room, and as she passes them she gives them
a little bend of the head and the beginnings of a grave smile. She
goes out of the door, still playing; she is still playing as she
goes past the windows. They follow her with their eyes. When she
is gone they still listen until the music dies in the distance.]
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, FIRST PLAYS ***
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