Then turning round she would call out, "J--OE, bring the concer'." In an instant Joe would strut along with it.

And Sandy, for the fiftieth time, would examine it and laugh at the kangaroo-skin straps that Dave had tacked to it, and the scraps of brown paper that were plastered over the ribs of it to keep the wind in; and, cocking his left leg over the pommel of his saddle, he would sound a full blast on it as a preliminary.

Then he would strike up "The Rocky Road to Dublin", or "The Wind Among the Barley,", or some other beautiful air, and grind away untiringly until it got dark--until mother came and asked him if he would n't come in and have supper.

Of course, he always would.

After supper he would play some more.