Read Phil, the Fiddler Page 16


  CHAPTER XVI

  THE FASHIONABLE PARTY

  Eliakim Henderson, for this was the pawnbroker's name, did not rememberPaul, though on one occasion our hero had called upon him. Nearlyall his customers came to pawn articles, not to purchase, and Eliakimnaturally supposed that the two boys had come on this errand. Beforeentering, Paul said to Phil, "Don't say anything; leave me to manage."

  As they entered, Phil espied a fiddle hanging up behind the counter,and he saw at a glance that it was better than the one he had beenaccustomed to play upon. But to his surprise, Paul did not refer to itat first.

  "What will you give me on this coat?" asked Paul, indicating the one hehad on.

  He had no intention of selling it, but preferred to come to the fiddlegradually, that the pawnbroker might not think that was his main object,and so charge an extra price.

  Eliakim scanned the garment critically. It was nearly new and inexcellent condition, and he coveted it.

  "I will give you a dollar," said he, naming a price low enough toadvance upon.

  "That is too little," said Paul, shaking his head.

  "I might give you fifty cents more, but I should lose if you didn'tredeem it."

  "I don't think you would. I paid ten dollars for it."

  "But it is old."

  "No, it isn't; I have only had it a few weeks."

  "How much do you want on it?" asked Eliakim, scanning Paul sharply, tosee how much he seemed in want of money.

  "I don't want any to-day. If I should want some next week, I will comein."

  "It will be older next week," said Eliakim, not wanting to lose thebargain, for he hoped it would not be redeemed.

  "Never mind; I can get along till then."

  "Can I do no business with you this morning?" asked Eliakim,disappointed.

  "I don't know," said Paul, looking carelessly around. "My friend herewould like a fiddle, if he can get one cheap. What do you ask for thatone up there?"

  Eliakim took down the fiddle with alacrity. He had had it on hand fora year without securing a customer. It had originally been pawned by apoor musician, for a dollar and a quarter, but the unfortunate owner hadnever been able to redeem it. Among his customers, the pawnbroker hadnot found one sufficiently musical to take it off his hands. Here was aslight chance, and he determined to effect a sale if he could.

  "It is a splendid instrument," he said, enthusiastically, brushing offthe dust with a dirty cotton handkerchief. "I have had many chances tosell it."

  "Why didn't you sell it, then?" demanded Paul, who did not believe aword of this.

  "Because it was only pawned. I kept it for the owner."

  "Oh, well; if you can't sell it, it doesn't matter."

  "It is for sale now," said Eliakim, quickly. "He has not come forit, and I shall keep it no longer. Just try it. See what a sp-l-endidinstrument it is!" said the pawnbroker, dwelling on the adjective togive emphasis to it.

  Paul tried it, but not knowing how to play, of course created onlydiscord. He did not offer it to Phil, because the young Italian boywould have made it sound too well and so enhanced the price.

  "It don't sound very well," said he, indifferently; "but I suppose itwill do to learn on. What do you want for it?"

  "Five dollars," said Eliakim, studying the face of Paul, to observe theeffect of his announcement.

  "Five dollars," repeated Paul. "Take it back, then, and wait till A. T.Stewart wants one. I haven't got five dollars to throw away."

  But the pawnbroker did not expect to get his first price. He named it,in order to have a chance to fall.

  "Stay," he said, as Paul made a motion to leave; "what will you give mefor it?"

  "I'll give you a dollar and a half," said Paul, turning back.

  "A dollar and a half!" exclaimed Eliakim, holding up both hands inhorror. "Do you want to ruin me?"

  "No, I think you want to ruin me. I am willing to pay a fair price."

  "You may have it for three dollars and a half."

  "No doubt you'd be glad to get that. Come, Phil, we'll go."

  "Stay; you may have it for three dollars, though I shall lose by it."

  "So should I, if I paid you that price. I can wait till some othertime."

  But Eliakim did not intend to let this chance slip. He had found thefiddle rather unsalable, and feared if he lost his chance of disposingof it, it might remain on his hands for a year more. He was willing,therefore, to take less than the profit he usually calculated upon inthe sale of articles which remained unredeemed.

  "You may have it for two dollars and a half," he said.

  As far as Paul could judge, though he did not know much about the priceof violins, this was a reasonable price. But he knew that Eliakim musthave got it for considerably less, or he would not so soon have comedown to this sum. He did not hesitate, therefore, to try to get it alittle cheaper.

  "I'll give you two dollars and a quarter," he said, "and not a pennymore."

  Eliakim tried hard to get ten cents more, but Paul saw that he was sureof his purchase, and remained obdurate. So, after a pretense of puttingup the fiddle, the pawnbroker finally said, "You may have it, but I tellyou that I shall lose money."

  "All right," said Paul; "hand it over."

  "Where is the money?" asked Eliakim, cautiously.

  Paul drew from his pocket a two-dollar bill and twenty-five cents incurrency, and received the fiddle. The pawnbroker scrutinized the moneyclosely, fearing that it might be bad; but finally, making up his mindon that point, deposited it in his money drawer.

  "Well, Phil, we may as well go," said Paul. "We've got through ourbusiness."

  The pawnbroker heard this, and a sudden suspicion entered his mind thatPaul had been too sharp for him.

  "I might have got twenty-five cents more," he thought regretfully; andthis thought disturbed the complacency he felt at first.

  "Well, Phil, how do you like it?" asked Paul, as they emerged into thestreet.

  "Let me try it," said Phil, eagerly.

  He struck up a tune, which he played through, his face expressing thesatisfaction he felt.

  "Is it as good as your old one?"

  "It is much better," said Phil. "I will pay you for it;" and he drew outthe money the sailors had given him in the morning.

  "No, Phil," said his friend, "you may need that money. Keep it, and payme when you have more."

  "But I shall be away."

  "You will come to the city some day. When you do you will know where tofind me. Now go and play a tune to Jimmy. He is waiting for you. If youremain in the streets, your old enemy, Tim Rafferty, may want to borrowyour fiddle again."

  "You are very kind to me, Paolo," said Phil, raising his dark eyes witha sudden impulse of gratitude.

  "It's nothing, Phil," said Paul, modestly; "you would do the same for meif I needed it."

  "Yes, I would," said Phil; "but I am poor, and I cannot help you."

  "You won't be poor always, Phil," said Paul, cheerfully, "nor I either,I hope. I mean to be a merchant some time on a bigger scale than now. Asfor you, you will be a great player, and give concerts at the Academy ofMusic."

  Phil laughed, but still seemed pleased at the prophecy.

  "Well, Phil, I must bid you good-by for a little while, or my clerkswill be cheating me. I will see you at supper."

  "Addio, Paolo," said Phil.

  "Addio," said Paul, laughing. "Wouldn't I make a good Italian?"

  Paul returned to his stand, and Phil took the direction of Mrs.Hoffman's rooms. While on his way he heard the sound of a hand-organ,and, looking across the way, saw, with some uneasiness, his old enemyPietro, playing to a crowd of boys.

  "I hope he won't see me," said Phil to himself.

  He was afraid Pietro would remember his old violin, and, seeing thedifference in the instrument he now had, inquire how he got it. Hemight, if not satisfied on this point, take Phil home with him, whichwould be fatal to his plans. He thought it prudent, therefore, toturn down the next st
reet, and get out of sight as soon as possible.Fortunately for him Pietro had his back turned, so that he did notobserve him. Nothing would have pleased him better than to get thelittle fiddler into trouble, for, besides being naturally malicious, hefelt that an exhibition of zeal in his master's service would entitlehim to additional favors at the hands of the padrone, whom he hoped someday to succeed.

  "Oh, what a beautiful fiddle!" said Jimmy, in admiration, as Philreappeared. "Do you think I could play on it?"

  Phil shook his head, smiling.

  "Don't let Jimmy have it. He would only spoil it," said Mrs. Hoffman. "Idon't think he would succeed as well in music as in drawing."

  "Will you play something?" asked Jimmy.

  Phil willingly complied, and for half an hour held Jimmy entranced withhis playing. The little boy then undertook to teach Phil how to draw,but at this Phil probably cut as poor a figure as his instructor wouldhave done at playing on the violin.

  So the afternoon wore away, happily for all three, and at five Paulmade his appearance. When supper was over Phil played again, and thisattracting the attention of the neighbors, Mrs. Hoffman's rooms weregradually filled with visitors, who finally requested Phil to play somedancing tunes. Finding him able to do so, an impromptu dance was gotup, and Mrs. Hoffman, considerably to her surprise, found that she wasgiving a dancing-party. Paul, that nothing might be left out, took acompanion with him and they soon reappeared with cake and ice cream,which were passed around amid great hilarity; and it was not untilmidnight that the last visitor went out, and the sound of music andlaughter was hushed.

  "You are getting fashionable in your old age, mother," said Paul, gayly."I think I shall send an account of your party to the Home Journal."

  "I believe it is usual to describe the dresses of the ladies," said Mrs.Hoffman, smiling.

  "Oh, yes, I won't forget that. Just give me a piece of paper and see howI will do it."

  Paul, whose education, I repeat here, was considerably above that ofmost boys in his position, sat down and hastily wrote the followingdescription, which was read to the great amusement of his auditors:

  "Mrs. Hoffman, mother of the well-known artist, Jimmy Hoffman, Esq.,gave a fashionable party last evening. Her spacious and elegantapartments were crowded with finely dressed gentlemen and ladies fromthe lower part of the city. Signor Filippo, the great Italian musician,furnished the music. Mrs. Hoffman appeared in a costly calico dress, andhad a valuable gold ring on one of her fingers. Her son, the artist,was richly dressed in a gray suit, purchased a year since. Miss BridgetFlaherty, of Mott Street, was the belle of the occasion, and danced withsuch grace and energy that the floor came near giving away beneath herfairy tread. [Miss Flaherty, by the way, weighed one hundred and eightypounds.] Mr. Mike Donovan, newspaper merchant, handed round refreshmentswith his usual graceful and elegant deportment. Miss Matilda Wigginsappeared in a magnificent print dress, imported from Paris by A. T.Stewart, and costing a shilling a yard. No gloves were worn, as theyare now dispensed with in the best society. At a late hour the guestsdispersed. Mrs. Hoffman's party will long be remembered as the mostbrilliant of the season."

  "I did not know you had so much talent for reporting, Paul," said hismother. "You forgot one thing, however."

  "What is that?"

  "You said nothing of yourself."

  "I was too modest, mother. However, if you insist upon it, I will do so.Anything at all to please you."

  Paul resumed his writing and in a short time had the following:

  "Among those present we observed the handsome and accomplished PaulHoffman, Esq., the oldest son of the hostess. He was elegantly dressedin a pepper-and-salt coat and vest, blue necktie, and brown breeches,and wore a six-cent diamond breastpin in the bosom of his shirt. Hisfifteen-cent handkerchief was perfumed with cologne which he importedhimself at a cost of ten cents per bottle. He attracted generaladmiration."

  "You seem to have got over your modesty, Paul," said his mother.

  "I am sleepy," said Jimmy, drowsily rubbing his eyes.

  As this expressed the general feeling, they retired to bed at once, andin half an hour were wandering in the land of dreams.