The Young Musician | Page 6

do. My father's got a
bill against yours for a dollar and sixty-four cents. I told father I had a
use for the fiddle, and he says if you'll give it to me, he'll call it square.
There, what do you say to that?"
Nicholas leaned back in his chair and looked at Philip through his small,
fishy eyes, as if he had made an uncommonly liberal offer. As for
Philip, he hardly knew whether to be angry or amused.
"You offer me a dollar and sixty-four cents for my violin?" he repeated.
"Yes. It's second-hand, to be sure, but I guess it's in pretty fair
condition. Besides, you might help me a little about learnin' how to
play."
"How much do you suppose the violin cost?" inquired Philip.
"Couldn't say."
"It cost my father twenty-five dollars."
"Oh, come, now, that's too thin! You don't expect a feller to believe
such a story as that?"
"I expect to be believed, for I never tell anything but the truth."
"Oh, well, I don't expect yon do, generally, but when it comes to tradin',
most everybody lies," observed Nick candidly.
"I have no object in misrepresenting, for I don't want to sell the violin."
"You can't afford to keep it! The town won't let you!"
"The town won't let me?" echoed Philip, now thoroughly mystified.
"Of course they won't. The idea of a pauper bein' allowed a fiddle to
play on! Why, it's ridiculous!"
"What do you mean?" demanded Philip, who now began to
comprehend the meaning of this thick-witted visitor. "What have I got
to do with the town, or with paupers?"
"Why, you're goin' to the poorhouse, ain't you?"
"Certainly not!" answered Philip, with flashing eyes.
"I guess you're mistaken," said Nick coolly. "Squire Pope was over to

our shop this mornin', and he told dad that the seleckmen were goin' to
send you there after the auction."
Philip's eyes flashed angrily. He felt insulted and outraged. Never for a
moment had he conceived the idea that any one would regard him as a
candidate for the poorhouse.
He had an honorable pride in maintaining himself, and would rather get
along on one meal a day, earned by himself in honest independence,
than be indebted to public charity even for a luxurious support.
"Squire Pope doesn't know what he's talking about," retorted Philip,
who had to exercise some self-restraint not to express himself more
forcibly "and you can tell him so when you see him. I am no more
likely to go to the poorhouse than you are!"
"Come, that's a good one," chuckled Nick. "Talk of me goin' to the
poorhouse, when my father pays one of the biggest taxes in town! Of
course, it's different with you."
"You'll have to excuse me now," said Philip, determined to get rid of
his disagreeable companion. "I have something to do."
"Then you won't sell me the fiddle, Phil?"
"No, I won't," answered our hero, with scant ceremony.
"Then I'll have to bid it off at the auction. Maybe I'll get it cheaper."
And Mr. Nicholas Holden at length relieved Philip of his company.

CHAPTER IV.
THE AUCTION.

It so happened that Nick Holden met Squire Pope on the village street,
and, being rather disappointed at the result of his negotiations with
Philip, thought it might be a good idea to broach the subject to the
squire, who, as he knew, had taken it upon himself to superintend the
sale of Mr. Gray's goods."
"I say, squire, I've just been over to see Phil Gray."
"Ahem! Well, how does he seem to feel?"
"Kinder stuck up, I reckon. He said he wouldn't go to the poorhouse,
and I might tell you so."

"I apprehend," said the squire, in his stately way, "he will be under the
necessity of going, whether he likes it or not."
"Just so; that's what I told him!" interjected Nick.
"And he should be grateful for so comfortable a home," continued the
public man.
"Well, I dunno," said Nick. "They do say that old Tucker most starves
the paupers. Why his bills with dad are awful small."
"The town cannot afford to pamper the appetites of its beneficiaries,"
said the squire. "Where is Philip now?"
"I guess he's at home. I offered to buy his fiddle, but he said he was
going to keep it. I offered him a dollar and sixty-four cents--the same as
dad's bill against his father, but he wouldn't take it."
"Really, Nicholas, your offer was very irregular--extremely irregular. It
should have been made to me, as the administrator of the late Mr. Gray,
and not to a boy like Philip."
"Will you sell me the fiddle for dad's bill, squire?" asked Nicholas
eagerly.
"You are premature, Nicholas--"
"What's that?"
"I mean you