as Mother Bhaer kissed her new boy and left him to happy dreams of life at Plumfield.
It was too much for Nat, more feeble than he knew; and as the final shout died away, his face began to work, he dropped the fiddle, and turning to the wall sobbed like a little child.
A hearty round of applause rewarded him better than a shower of pennies, when he stopped and glanced about him, as if to say:
“I’ve done my best; please like it.”