The old man stood on the footpath under the trees, his ear bent to the fiddle as he played. His eyes, looking gravely before him at the scene, were as intent as if the fate of nations hung on his bow. The street was full of folk as far as she could see, and in the midst of them the children were playing “London Bridge.” Under the trees and over the sun-flecked road they moved slowly and solemnly to the tune, and between the laughing folk on either side their faces looked serious and sad. There were babies among them, for this is the little children’s game, and even the babies’ faces were sad. They stood facing each other in rows across the street, keeping themselves up by the grasp of their little hands. Sometimes they lost their balance and fell down, but they were so intent on the game that even as they bumped their faces never changed. Suddenly Marget discovered some of her own offspring in the crowd, and that the younger ones were even taking part. Last of all she saw the red-haired baby among the rest, clenching determined fists and setting a firm mouth. “_London Bridge is broken down, Broken down, broken down. London Bridge is broken down, (My fair Ladye!)_ _Build it up with pins and needles, Pins and needles, pins and needles. Build it up with pins and needles, (My fair Ladye!)_ _Pins and needles rust and bend, Rust and bend, rust and bend. Pins and needles rust and bend, (My fair Ladye!)_” Marget made a rush as soon as she got her breath, but the crowd closed in before her and held her back. She could see the smiling faces all along the street, people staring over the shoulders of others or peering over their heads, leaning out of upstairs windows and sitting along the wall. There were even faces peeping down from the trees, and drawn up close to the kerb was the Squire’s carriage and pair. The horses’ heads were turned away from the scene, but the Squire and his wife were leaning over the hood. Even the coachman was screwing his neck as far as it would go, and as for the footman, he had forgotten himself right out, and had turned about and was kneeling on the seat. And in the midst of the smiles and amusement and applause the babies bobbed and moved with never a smile, and the old man played as if he played before kings. “_Here’s a prisoner we have got, We have got, we have got. Here’s a prisoner we have got, (My fair Ladye!)_ _What’s the prisoner done to you, Done to you, done to you? What’s the prisoner done to you? (My fair Ladye!)_ _Stole my watch and broke my chain, Broke my chain, broke my chain. Stole my watch and broke my chain, (My fair Ladye!)_”