The Young Musician; Or, Fighting His Way, Jr. Horatio Alger [best contemporary novels .txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Why? Ain't that your name?” asked the young lady demurely.
“Not to you, Maria.”
“Well, I won't, if you'll take me up and introduce me to Mr. Gray.”
“What for?” asked Jedidiah jealously.
“Because I want to know him.”
Mr. Burbank was obliged to obey the request of his partner.
“Oh, Mr. Gray, you play just lovely!” said Miss Snodgrass rapturously.
“Thank you for the compliment,” said Philip, with a low bow.
“I like your playing ever so much better than Paul Beck's.”
“You are too kind,” said Philip, with another bow.
“Isn't he just lovely, Jedidiah!” said Maria, as she walked away with her lover.
“Maybe he is—I ain't a judge!” said Mr. Burbank, not very enthusiastically.
So the evening passed. Philip continued to win the favorable opinion of the merry party by his animated style of playing.
When at half-past eleven the last dance was announced, he was glad, for after his long walk, and the efforts of the evening, he felt tired.
At the conclusion, Mr. Ingalls handed him three dollars, saying:
“Here's your money, Mr. Gray, and we are much obliged to you besides.”
“Thank you!” said our hero, carelessly slipping the money into his vest pocket.
The manager little imagined that it constituted his entire capital.
“I hope we may have you here again some time, Mr. Gray,” continued the manager.
“Perhaps so,” said Philip; “but I am not sure when I shall come this way again.”
“Good night, Mr. Gray,” said Miss Snodgrass effusively. “I should be glad to have you call at our house.”
Philip bowed his thanks. He did not notice the dark cloud on the brow of the young lady's escort.
CHAPTER XXI. FORTUNE SMILES AGAIN.
Notwithstanding his exertions during the day and evening, Philip rose the next day at his usual hour, and was in time for the family breakfast, at seven o'clock.
“Don't you feel tired, Mr. Gray?” asked Mrs. Webb.
“No, thank you. I slept well, and feel quite refreshed.”
“He's used to it, Lucy,” remarked her husband.
“They look upon me as a professional player,” thought Philip.
“I think you and I ought to be more tired, for we were dancing all the evening,” continued the farmer.
When they rose from the table, Philip looked for his hat.
“You're not going to leave us so soon, Mr. Gray?” said Mrs. Webb hospitably. “We shall be glad to have you stay with us a day or two, if you can content yourself.”
“That's right, Lucy. I'm glad you thought to ask him,” said her husband.
Philip was tempted to accept this kind invitation. He would have free board, and be at no expense, instead of spending the small sum he had earned the evening previous; but he reflected that he would be no nearer solving the problem of how he was to maintain himself, and while this was in uncertainty, he was naturally anxious.
“I am very much obliged to you both,” he said. “If I come this way again, I shall be glad to call upon you, but now I think I must be pushing on.”
“You'll always be welcome, Mr. Gray,” said Mrs. Webb.
Philip thanked her, and soon after set out on his way.
He was more cheerful and hopeful than the day before, for then he was well nigh penniless, and now he had three dollars in his pocket.
Three dollars was not a very large sum, to be sure, but to one who had been so near destitution as Philip it seemed very important.
Besides, he had discovered in his violin a source of income, whereas, hitherto, he had looked upon it merely as a source of amusement. This made him feel more independent and self-reliant.
He had walked perhaps two miles, when he heard the rattle of wheels behind him. He did not turn his head, for there was nothing strange in this sound upon a frequented road. He did turn his head, however, when he heard a strong voice calling “Hello!”
Turning, he saw that a young man who was driving had slackened the speed of his horse, and was looking toward him.
Philip halted, and regarded the driver inquiringly.
“You're the young chap that played for a dance last night, ain't you!” said the newcomer.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you're the one I want to see—jump in, and we'll talk as we are going along.”
Philip had no objection to a ride, and he accepted the invitation with alacrity. The driver, he noticed, was a young man, of pleasant manners, though dressed in a coarse suit.
“I drove over to Jonas Webb's to see you, and they told me you had just gone,” he continued. “I thought maybe you'd get up late, but you was up on time. Are you engaged for this evening?”
Philip began to prick up his ears and become interested. Was it possible that his good luck was to continue, and that he was to have an opportunity of earning some more money through his faithful friend, the violin? He didn't think it well to exhibit the satisfaction he felt, and answered, in a matter-of-fact tone;
“No, I have no engagement for this evening.”
“I'm glad of it,” responded the young man, evidently well pleased. “You see, we had arranged to have a dance over to our place, but Mr. Beck, being sick, we thought we'd have to give it up. One of my neighbors was over last evening and heard you play, and he thought maybe we could secure you.”
“I shall be glad to play for you,” said Philip politely.
“What are your terms?” asked his companion.
“Three dollars and board and lodging for the time I need to stay.”
“That's satisfactory. I'll engage you.”
“Is it near here?” asked Philip.
“It's in Conway—only four miles from here. I'll take you right over now, and you shall stay
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