Part 29 (1/2)

Hopewell entered, violin in hand. He greeted Janice in his quiet way and then spoke to Bodley.

”You wanted to see me, Mr. Bodley?”

”Now, how about that fiddle, Hopewell? D'ye really want to sell it?”

asked the bartender, lightly.

”I--I must sell it, Mr. Bodley. I feel that I _must_,” said Hopewell, in his gentle way.

”It's as good as sold, then, old feller,” said the barkeeper. ”I've got a customer for it.”

”Ah! but I must have my price. Otherwise it will do me no good to sell the violin which I prize so highly--and which my father played before me.”

”That's Yankee talk,” laughed Bodley. ”How much?”

”I believe it is a valuable instrument--a very valuable instrument,”

said poor Hopewell, evidently in fear of not making the sale, yet determined to obtain what he considered a fair price for it. ”At least, I know 't is an _old_ violin.”

”One of the 'old masters,' eh?” chuckled Bodley.

”Perhaps. I do not think you will care to pay my price, sir,” said the storekeeper, with dignity.

”I've got a customer for it. He seen it down to the dance--and he wants it. What's your price?” repeated Bodley.

”I thought some of sending it to New York to be valued,” Hopewell said slowly.

”My man will buy it--sight unseen, as ye might say--on my recommend.

He only saw it for a moment,” said Bodley.

”What will he give for it?” asked Hopewell.

”How much do you want?”

”One hundred dollars, Mr. Bodley,” said the storekeeper, this time with more firmness.

”_What_? One hundred of your grandmother's grunts! Why, Hopewell, there _ain't_ so much money--not in Polktown, at least--'nless it's hid away in a broken teapot on the top shelf of a cupboard in Elder Concannon's house. They say he's got the first dollar he ever earned, and most all that he's gathered since that time.”

Janice heard all this as she stood in the back room with 'Rill. Then, having excused herself to the storekeeper's wife, she ran out of the side door to go across the street to Mrs. Beaseley's.

In fact, she could not bear to stay there and hear Hopewell bargain for the sale of his precious violin. It seemed too, too, bad! It had been his comfort--his only consolation, indeed--for the many years that circ.u.mstances had kept him and 'Rill Scattergood apart. And after all, to be obliged to dispose of it----

Janice remembered how she had brought little Lottie home to the storekeeper the very day she first met him, and how he had played ”Silver Threads Among the Gold” for her in the dark, musty back room of the old store. Why! Hopewell Drugg would be utterly lost without the old fiddle.

She was glad Mrs. Beaseley was rather an un.o.bservant person, for Janice's eyes were tear-filled when she looked into the cottage kitchen. Nelson, however, was not at home. He had gone for a long tramp through the fields and had not yet returned. So, leaving word for him to come over to the Day house that evening, Janice went slowly back to her car.

Before she could start it 'Rill came outside. Bodley had gone, and the storekeeper's wife was frankly weeping.

”Poor Hopewell! he's sold the fiddle,” sobbed 'Rill.

”To that awful bartender?” demanded Janice.