'
Bob obeyed, and Solomon walked in, fiddling as he walked, for he
would on no account break off in the middle of a tune.
'Here, Solomon,' said the Squire, with loud patronage. 'Round here,
my man. Ah, I knew it was "The flaxen-headed ploughboy": there's no
finer tune.'
Solomon Macey, a small hale old man with an abundant crop of long
white hair reaching nearly to his shoulders, advanced to the indicated
spot, bowing reverently while he fiddled, as much as to say that he
respected the company, though he respected the keynote more. As soon
as he had repeated the tune and lowered his fiddle, he bowed again
to the Squire and the rector, and said, 'I hope I see your honour
and your reverence well, and wishing you health and long life and a
happy New Year. And wishing the same to you, Mr Lammeter, sir; and
to the other gentlemen, and the madams, and the young lasses.'
As Solomon uttered the last words, he bowed in all directions
solicitously, lest he should be wanting in due respect. But
thereupon he immediately began to prelude, and fell into the tune
which he knew would be taken as a special compliment by Mr Lammeter.
'Thank ye, Solomon, thank ye,' said Mr Lammeter, when the fiddle
paused again. 'That's "Over the hills and far away", that is. My
father used to say to me, whenever we heard that tune, "Ah, lad, I
come from over the hills and far away.
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