Phil, the Fiddler Part 19

"I don't know."

"I'll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after a moment's thought. "I know a p.a.w.nbroker's shop on Chatham Street where there is a fiddle for sale. I don't think it will cost very much; not more than five dollars. You must buy it."

"I have not five dollars," said Phil.

"Then I will lend you the money. You shall buy it, and when you have earned money enough you shall come back to New York some day and pay me."

"Thank you," said Phil, gratefully. "I will surely pay you."

"Of course you will, Phil," said Paul, confidently. "I can see by your face that you are honest. I don't believe you would cheat your friend."

"I would not cheat you, Signor Paul."

"I see, Phil, you are bound to make an Italian of me. You may just call me Paul, and don't mind about the signor. Now I'll tell you what I propose. I cannot leave my business for an hour and a half. You can go where you please, but come back at that time, and I will take you home to dinner with me. On the way back I will stop with you at the Chatham Street store and ask the price of the violin; then, if it doesn't cost too much, I will buy it."

"All right," said Phil.

"You must come back at twelve o'clock, Phil."

"I will come."

Phil strolled down to the Battery, feeling a little strange without his violin. He was elated with the thought of his coming freedom, and for the first time since he landed in America the future looked bright to him.

CHAPTER XIV

THE TAMBOURINE GIRL

Arriving at Trinity Church, Phil turned into Wall Street, looking about him in a desultory way, for he was at present out of business. Men and boys were hurrying by in different directions, to and from banks and insurance offices, while here and there a lawyer or lawyer's clerk might be seen looking no less busy and preoccupied. If Phil had had three thousand dollars instead of three, he, too, might have been interested in the price of gold and stocks; but his financial education had been neglected, and he could not have guessed within twenty the day's quotations for either.

As he walked along his attention was suddenly drawn to a pair of Italians, a man and a girl of twelve, the former turning a hand-organ, the latter playing a tambourine. There was nothing unusual in the group; but Phil's heart beat quick for in the girl he thought he recognized a playmate from the same village in which he was born and bred.

"Lucia!" he called, eagerly approaching the pair.

The girl turned quickly, and, seeing the young fiddler, let fall her tambourine in surprise.

"Filippo!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with the joy with which we greet a friend's face in a strange land.

"Why did you drop your tambourine, scelerata?" demanded the man, harshly.

Lucia, a pretty, brown-faced girl, did not lose her joyful look even at this rebuke. She stooped and picked up the tambourine, and began to play mechanically, but continued to speak to Filippo.

"How long are you in the city?" asked Phil, speaking, of course, in his native language.

"Only two weeks," answered Lucia. "I am so glad to see you, Filippo."

"When did you come from Italy?"

"I cannot tell. I think it is somewhere about two months."

"And did you see my mother before you came away?" asked Phil, eagerly.

"Yes, Filippo, I saw her. She told me if I saw you to say that she longed for her dear boy to return; that she thought of him day and night."

"Did she say that, Lucia?"

"Yes, Filippo."

"And is my mother well?" asked Phil, anxiously, for he had a strong love for his mother.

"She is well, Filippo--she is not sick, but she is thin, and she looks sad."

"I will go and see her some day," said Phil. "I wish I could see her now."

"When will you go?"

"I don't know; when I am older."

"But where is your fiddle, Filippo?" asked Lucia. "Do you not play?"

Filippo glanced at the organ-grinder, whom he did not dare to take into his confidence. So he answered, evasively:

"Another boy took it. I shall get another this afternoon."

"Are you with the padrone?"

"Yes."

"Come, Lucia," said the man, roughly, ceasing to play, "we must go on."

Lucia followed her companion obediently, reluctant to leave Phil, with whom she desired to converse longer; but the latter saw that her guardian did not wish the conversation to continue, and so did not follow.

This unexpected meeting with Lucia gave him much to think of. It carried back his thoughts to his humble, but still dear, Italian home, and the mother from whom he had never met with anything but kindness, and a longing to see both made him for the moment almost sad. But he was naturally of a joyous temperament, and hope soon returned.

"I will save money enough to go home," he said to himself. "It will not take very much--not more than fifty dollars. I can get it soon if I do not have to pay money to the padrone."

As may be inferred, Phil did not expect to return home in style. A first-cla.s.s ticket on a Cunarder was far above his expectations. He would be content to go by steerage all the way, and that could probably be done for the sum he named. So his sadness was but brief, and be soon became hopeful again.

He was aroused from his thoughts of home by a hand laid familiarly on his shoulder. Turning, he saw a bootblack, whose adventures have been chronicled in the volume called "Ragged d.i.c.k." They had become acquainted some three months before, d.i.c.k having acted as a protector to Phil against some rough boys of his own cla.s.s.

"Been buyin' stocks?" asked d.i.c.k.

"I don't know what they are," said Phil, innocently.

"You're a green one," said d.i.c.k. "I shall have to take you into my bankin' house and give you some training in business."

"Have you got a bankin' house?" asked Phil, in surprise.