A LIVELY EVENING.
Schoolhouse Hall, as may be inferred, was a large hall, occupying the
second story of the Center Schoolhouse, and though not originally
intended for dancing-parties, answered very well for that purpose.
The hall was tolerably well filled when Philip entered in company with
Jonas Webb and his wife.
Philip had effaced, as well as he could, the stains of travel, had
arrayed himself in a clean shirt and collar, brushed his hair neatly,
and, being naturally a very good-looking boy, appeared to very good
advantage, though he certainly did look young.
As he walked through the hall, with his violin under his arm, he
attracted the attention of all, it having been already made known that
in place of the veteran Paul Beck—a man of fifty or more—an unknown boy
would furnish the music for the evening.
Philip could not avoid hearing some of the remarks which his appearance
excited. “What! that little runt play the fiddle?” said one countrified
young man, in a short-waisted blue coat, and tow-colored hair,
plastered down on either side of his head with tallow. “I don’t believe
he can play any more than I can.”
“I hope he can,” retained his partner—a plump, red-cheeked, young
farmer’s daughter. “He’s very good-looking, anyhow.”
“He isn’t anything to brag of,” said her partner jealously.
“Oh, how can you say so, Jedidiah? See what beautiful black hair and
eyes he’s got, and such a lovely color on his cheeks!”
Now, Jedidiah, in appearance, was just the reverse of Philip. His hair,
as already stated, was tow-color, his face was tanned, and the color
rather resembled brick-dust than the deep red of our hero’s cheeks.
His partner was a rustic flirt, and he was disposed to be jealous, not
being certain how far she favored him. He, therefore, took offense at
his partner’s admiration of the young fiddler.
“He looks very common to me,” said Jedidiah pettishly. “You’ve got a
strange taste, Maria.”
“Perhaps I have, and perhaps I haven’t,” retorted Maria, tossing her
head.
“Perhaps you’re in love with him?” continued Jedidiah, in a tone meant
to be sarcastic.
“I should be if he was a little older,” said the young lady, rather
enjoying her lover’s displeasure.
“I don’t believe he can play at all,” growled Jedidiah. “He’s fooled
Abner Webb, like as not. It’s a pity we couldn’t have Paul Beck.”
“Very likely he can play better than Paul Beck,” said Maria—not because
she thought so, but because she knew it would tease her partner.
“Don’t be a fool, Maria,” said Jedidiah, scarcely conscious of the
impoliteness of his speech.
The young lady, however, resented it at once.
“I am sure you are very polite, Mr. Jedidiah Burbank—so polite that I
think you had better find another partner!”
“Excuse me, Maria,” said Jedidiah hastily, alarmed at the prospect of
being left without a partner. “Of course, I didn’t mean anything.”
“If you didn’t mean it, what made you say it?” retorted Maria, tossing
her head. “I ain’t used to being called a fool. I never knew a
gentleman to make such a remark to a lady. I think you’d better find
some other partner.”
“I take it all back,” said Jedidiah, in alarm. “I was only in fun.”
“I don’t like that kind of fun,” said Maria, in a tone of dignified
coldness.
“Then I won’t joke you again. I guess he can play well enough, if Abner
says so.”
Miss Maria Snodgrass allowed herself to be propitiated, more especially
as she herself might have been left without a partner, had she adhered
to her determination and sent Jedidiah adrift.
He took his place in a quadrille, not exactly wishing Philip to fail,
but rather hoping that he would prove a poor performer, in order that
he might have a little triumph over Maria, who had the bad taste to
prefer the young musician’s appearance to his.
Meanwhile Philip, following Jonas Webb across the room, had been
introduced to Frank Ingalls, who acted as manager.
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Gray,” said Ingalls. “I hope we sha’n’t make
you work too hard. We are very fond of dancing here.”
“I don’t get tired very easily,” answered Philip. “I hope you will be
satisfied with my playing.”
“No fear of that, Mr. Ingalls, I’ve heerd him play at home, and I tell
you he can do it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Webb,” said Philip, bowing his acknowledgment of the
compliment.
“I guess we may as well commence, Mr. Gray,” said Mr. Ingalls. “The
boys seem to be getting impatient. Here’s the order of dances for the
evening.”
“Very well, Mr. Ingalls.”
The manager raised his voice, and said, “Gentlemen and ladies, you
already know that Beck is sick, and cannot be with us this evening, as
he engaged to do. In his place we have engaged a young musician, who
has already gained a great reputation in his profession—”
Philip was rather surprised to hear this, but it was not for him to
gainsay it.
“Let me introduce to you Mr. Philip Gray.”
Philip bowed and smiled, and, putting his violin in position,
immediately commenced a lively air.
In less than five minutes the manager felt perfectly at ease concerning
the young musician. It was clear that Philip understood his business.
Philip himself entered into the spirit of his performance. His cheek
flushed, his eyes sparkled, and he almost outdid himself.
When the first dance was concluded, there was a murmur of approval
throughout the ballroom. The dancers were both surprised and pleased.
“He’s a smart boy!” said more than one. “He plays as well as Paul Beck,
and Paul’s been play-in’ for more’n twenty years.”
“As well? I never heard Paul Beck play as well as that,” said another.
Among those who were most pleased was Miss Maria Snodgrass.
“What do you think now, Mr. Burbank?” she said, addressing her partner.
“Do you think the boy can play now?”
“Yes, he can play most as well as Paul Beck,” admitted Jedidiah.
“Most as well? Paul Beck can’t begin to play as well as him,” returned
Maria, who was not educated, and occasionally made slips in grammar.
“Just as you say, Maria,” answered Jedidiah, submissively; “only don’t
call me Mr. Burbank.”
“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.