Just David | Page 9

the closed door. But he did not tarry. He turned and ran to his
father.
"Father, come away, quick! You must come away," he choked.
So urgent was the boy's voice that almost unconsciously the sick man
got to his feet. With shaking hands he thrust the notes he had been
writing into his pocket. The little book, from which he had torn the
leaves for this purpose, had already dropped unheeded into the grass at
his feet.
"Yes, son, yes, we'll go," muttered the man. "I feel better now. I
can--walk."
And he did walk, though very slowly, ten, a dozen, twenty steps. From
behind came the sound of wheels that stopped close beside them.
"Hullo, there! Going to the village?" called a voice.
"Yes, sir." David's answer was unhesitating. Where "the village" was,
he did not know; he knew only that it must be somewhere away from
the woman who had called him a thief. And that was all he cared to
know.
"I'm going 'most there myself. Want a lift?" asked the man, still kindly.
"Yes, sir. Thank you!" cried the boy joyfully. And together they aided
his father to climb into the roomy wagon-body.
There were few words said. The man at the reins drove rapidly, and
paid little attention to anything but his horses. The sick man dozed and
rested. The boy sat, wistful-eyed and silent, watching the trees and
houses flit by. The sun had long ago set, but it was not dark, for the
moon was round and bright, and the sky was cloudless. Where the road
forked sharply the man drew his horses to a stop.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I guess I'll have to drop you here, friends. I turn
off to the right; but 't ain't more 'n a quarter of a mile for you, now" he

finished cheerily, pointing with his whip to a cluster of twinkling lights.
"Thank you, sir, thank you," breathed David gratefully, steadying his
father's steps. "You've helped us lots. Thank you!"
In David's heart was a wild desire to lay at his good man's feet all of his
shining gold-pieces as payment for this timely aid. But caution held
him back: it seemed that only in stores did money pay; outside it
branded one as a thief!
Alone with his father, David faced once more his problem. Where
should they go for the night? Plainly his father could not walk far. He
had begun to talk again, too,--low, half-finished sentences that David
could not understand, and that vaguely troubled him. There was a
house near by, and several others down the road toward the village; but
David had had all the experience he wanted that night with strange
houses, and strange women. There was a barn, a big one, which was
nearest of all; and it was toward this barn that David finally turned his
father's steps.
"We'll go there, daddy, if we can get in," he proposed softly. "And we'll
stay all night and rest."

CHAPTER III
THE VALLEY
The long twilight of the June day had changed into a night that was
scarcely darker, so bright was the moonlight. Seen from the house, the
barn and the low buildings beyond loomed shadowy and unreal, yet
very beautiful. On the side porch of the house sat Simeon Holly and his
wife, content to rest mind and body only because a full day's work lay
well done behind them.
It was just as Simeon rose to his feet to go indoors that a long note from
a violin reached their ears.

"Simeon!" cried the woman. "What was that?"
The man did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the barn.
"Simeon, it's a fiddle!" exclaimed Mrs. Holly, as a second tone
quivered on the air "And it's in our barn!"
Simeon's jaw set. With a stern ejaculation he crossed the porch and
entered the kitchen.
In another minute he had returned, a lighted lantern in his hand.
"Simeon, d--don't go," begged the woman, tremulously. "You--you
don't know what's there."
"Fiddles are not played without hands, Ellen," retorted the man
severely. "Would you have me go to bed and leave a half-drunken,
ungodly minstrel fellow in possession of our barn? To-night, on my
way home, I passed a pretty pair of them lying by the roadside--a man
and a boy with two violins. They're the culprits, likely,--though how
they got this far, I don't see. Do you think I want to leave my barn to
tramps like them?"
"N--no, I suppose not," faltered the woman, as she rose tremblingly to
her feet, and followed her husband's shadow across the yard.
Once inside the barn Simeon Holly and his wife paused involuntarily.
The music was all about them now, filling the air with runs and trills
and