“Since you have found us out, sir,” said the woman, “I will tell you why we are behaving like this, and trust you to tell nobody.  I have been left a widow, in great poverty, and with this one son, who must be educated as well as his father was.  Richard is a promising boy, and cannot be satisfied to stand lower in the world than his father stood.  His father was an auctioneer.  But we are left very poor—­poor as mice:  and how was I to get him better teaching than the Board Schools here?  Well, six months ago, when sadly perplexed, I found out by chance that this small gift of mine might earn me a good income in London, at—­at a music-hall—­”

“Mother!” interjected the youth reprovingly.

“Pursue, madame,” said the flageolet-player.

“Of course, sir, Richard doesn’t like or approve of me performing at such places, but he agrees with me that it is necessary.  So we are hiding it from everybody in the village, because we have always been respected here.  We never guessed that anybody would see us from the churchyard, of all places, at this time of night.  As soon as I have practised enough, we mean to travel up to London.  Of course I shall change my name to something French or Italian, and hope nobody will discover—­”

But the flageolet-player sat suddenly down upon a damp grave, and broke into hysterical laughter.

“Oh-oh-oh!  Quick, madame! dance your pretty figures while yet I laugh and before I curse.  O stars and planets, look down on this mad world, and help me play!  And, O monsieur, your pardon if I laugh; for that either you or I are mad is a cock-sure.  Dance, madame!”

He put the flageolet to his lips and blew.  In a moment or two harlequin and columbine appeared on the screen, and began to caper nimbly, naturally, with the airiest graces.  The tune was a jigging reel, and soon began to inspire the performer above.  Her small dancers in a twinkling turned into a gambolling elephant, then to a pair of swallows.  A moment after they were flower and butterfly, then a jigging donkey, then harlequin and columbine again.  With each fantastic change the tune quickened and the dance grew wilder.  At length, tired out, the woman spread her hands out wide against the sheet, as if imploring mercy.

The player tossed his flageolet over a headstone, and rolled back on the grave in a paroxysm of laughter.  Above him the rooks had poured out of their nests, and were cawing in flustered circles.

“Monsieur,” he gasped out, sitting up and wiping his eyes, “was it good this time?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Then could you spare from the house one little crust of bread?  For I am famished.”

The youth went round the churchyard wall, and came back in a couple of minutes with some bread and cold bacon.

“Of course,” said he, “if you should meet either of us in the village to-morrow, you will not recognise us.”

The little man bowed.  “I agree,” said he, “with your mother, monsieur, that you must be educated at all costs.”