FUSS ABOUT A FIDDLE.
“Ahem! Good evening!” said Squire Pope to Frank Dunbar, taking no
notice of Philip’s cold but polite salutation.
“Good evening! Will you go into the house?” said Frank.
“I believe not. I have not time.”
“I am sorry father isn’t home. He just started for the village.”
“Ahem! it was not to see your father that I called,” answered Squire
Pope. “I wish to have a few words with this young man,” indicating
Philip stiffly.
“I am at your service, Squire Pope,” said Philip, with ceremonious
politeness.
“We came about the fiddle,” interrupted Nick Holden, who always wanted
to have a share in the conversation.
Squire Pope frowned, for he did not relish Nick’s interference.
“Nicholas,” he said severely, “I apprehend I am competent to manage the
business we have come upon.”
“Don’t get riled, squire,” said Nick, by no means abashed by this
rebuke. “I thought you were kinder slow about comin’ to the point.”
“Your interruption was very indecorous. I do not require any assistance
or any suggestions.”
“All right, squire!”
Squire Pope now turned to our hero, and said:
“As I was about to say, when interrupted by Nicholas, I have come to
require you to give up the Violin which, without authority and against
my express command, you withheld from the auction.”
“The violin is mine, Squire Pope,” said Philip firmly, “and I mean to
keep it!”
“You talk like an ignorant boy. As a minor, you had no claim to the
possession of any article except your clothing. I judged it best that
the violin should be sold at the auction, and it is presumptuous for
you to set up your judgment against mine!”
“I don’t take that view of it,” said Philip, and then he stopped.
He knew it was of no use to argue against the squire, who was obstinate
to the verge of pig-headedness, if I may be allowed to use the
expression. He felt that it would be only wasting his breath.
“It is quite immaterial how you view the subject,” said the squire
pompously. “My mind is made up, and my resolution is not likely to be
shaken by a boy.”
“Then, sir,” answered Philip, in a respectful tone but with a slight
smile, “it is hardly worth while for me to say any more.”
“I am glad you have arrived at so sensible a conclusion,” said Squire
Pope. “I take it that you have the violin here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then bring it out and give it to me.”
Now came the critical point, when Philip must array himself in
determined opposition to Squire Pope. He felt that he was entirely in
the right; still he regretted the necessity of the antagonism.
Philip had one thing in his favor: He had plenty of self-control, and,
although he was very indignant at the course of the squire, which he
regarded as unjustifiable, he made up his mind to be as respectful as
circumstances would permit.
“I don’t think you understand me, Squire Pope,” he said. “I refuse to
give up the violin!”
“You refuse to give up the violin!” repeated Squire Pope, scarcely
believing the testimony of his ears. “Do I hear you aright?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I never saw such impudence!” ejaculated Nick Holden, wishing to egg on
the squire.
“Do you mean to defy me to my face?” demanded Squire Pope, growing very
red.
“I don’t wish to defy you or anybody else,” returned Philip; “but I
shall stand up for my rights.”
“Misguided boy!” said the squire severely; “you will yet rue this rash
and heedless course. Frank,” he continued, turning to Frank Dunbar, “do
you know where Philip’s violin is!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do me the favor to bring it out and place it in my hands.”
“You must excuse me, Squire Pope,” answered Frank. “It belongs to
Philip, and I have no right to meddle with it.”
“If Philip has told you this, he has misrepresented,” said the squire,
rather discouraged by this second rebuff. “The violin does not belong
to Philip. It belongs to this young man.”
And, with a wave of his hand, he designated Nick Holden.
It was not polite, but Frank Dunbar was so surprised by this
announcement that he whistled.
As for Philip, he regarded Nick calmly; but there didn’t seem to be any
sign of yielding in his look.
“It belongs to Nicholas, because I have sold it to him,” continued
Squire Pope doggedly.
“That’s so!” corroborated Nick complacently. “The squire sold me the
fiddle for two-fifty. It’s mine now, and you’d better fetch it along
out, or there’ll be trouble.”
Philip turned to Squire Pope, and said quietly:
“As you had no right to sell it, the sale amounts to nothing. If you
had a right, I should say you were not very shrewd to sell an
instrument that cost twenty-five dollars—and was considered a bargain
at the price—for two dollars and fifty cents.”
“The violin cost twenty-five dollars!” ejaculated the squire, in
genuine surprise.
For, as it has already been stated, he had no idea whatever of the
usual price for a violin.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you believe him, squire,” said Nicholas, afraid that he would
lose what he knew to be a good bargain. “No fiddle that was ever made
cost twenty-five dollars. It’s ridiculous!”
“It does seem a large price,” said the squire guardedly.
Squire Pope would doubtless have been surprised to learn that certain
violins of celebrated make—such as the Cremonas—have sold for thousands
of dollars. Probably he would have disbelieved it.
Nevertheless, he began to think that he had been too precipitate in
accepting Nick Holden’s offer.
If he should sacrifice, or sell at an utterly inadequate price, any
article belonging to the boy whom he considered his ward, he knew that
he would be blamed, and he began to consider how he could recede from
the bargain.
“Nicholas,” he said, “I didn’t exactly sell the violin to you. I will
ascertain what is a fair price for it, and then I will consider your
proposal.”
“You sold it right out, squire,” said Nick, “and I can prove it. Didn’t
you just say it was mine. There, now!”
Nick turned triumphantly to Frank and Phil, but, for very good reasons,
they did not care to side with him.
“I say, you haven’t treated me right,” persisted Nick, who had no
particular respect nor veneration for the squire, and was not to be
deterred from speaking as he felt. “I offered you two-fifty, and you
said I should have it, and you got me to call at your house to come
here for it.”
“I cannot sacrifice the property of my ward,” said Squire Pope. “I must
ascertain how much the violin is worth.”
“A bargain is a bargain, every time!” said Nick, irritated.
“I will let you have it as cheap as anybody,” said the squire, who
thought it possible that Nick might be the only one who desired to
purchase it. “That ought to satisfy you. Philip, go and bring me the
violin, and I will carry it home and dispose of it to the best
advantage.”
“You must excuse me, Squire Pope. I shall not let it leave my
possession.” Just then Squire Pope espied Mr. Dunbar returning from the
village, and hailed him as a probable ally. He laid the matter before
him, and requested him to compel Philip to get the violin.
“You must excuse me, squire,” said Mr. Dunbar coldly. “Philip is my
guest, and he shall be protected in his rights as long as he remains
here.”
Without a word, Squire Pope walked off, in angry discomfiture, in one
direction, while Nick, equally dissatisfied, walked off in another.
“They don’t seem happy!” said Frank slyly.
“I wish I knew where it was going to end,” returned Philip gravely.
“It seems to me,” said Frank, “the squire is making a great fuss about
a fiddle, for a man of his dignity.”
“He doesn’t care about the violin. He wants to have his own way,” said
Philip, thus hitting the nail on the head.