"Just as you say, Maria," answered Jedidiah, submissively; "only don'tcall 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 withher lover.
"Maybe he is--I ain't a judge!" said Mr. Burbank, not veryenthusiastically.
So the evening passed. Philip continued to win the favorable opinion ofthe merry party by his animated style of playing.
When at half-past eleven the last dance was announced, he was glad, forafter 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 vestpocket.
The manager little imagined that it constituted his entire capital.
"I hope we may have you here again some time, Mr. Gray," continued themanager.
"Perhaps so," said Philip; "but I am not sure when I shall come this wayagain."
"Good night, Mr. Gray," said Miss Snodgrass effusively. "I should beglad to have you call at our house."
Philip bowed his thanks. He did not notice the dark cloud on the brow ofthe young lady's escort.
CHAPTER XXI. FORTUNE SMILES AGAIN.
Notwithstanding his exertions during the day and evening, Philiprose the next day at his usual hour, and was in time for the familybreakfast, at seven o'clock.
"Don't you feel tired, Mr. Gray?" asked Mrs. Webb.
"No, thank you. I slept well, and feel quite refreshed."
"He's used to it, Lucy," remarked her husband.
"They look upon me as a professional player," thought Philip.
"I think you and I ought to be more tired, for we were dancing all theevening," continued the farmer.
When they rose from the table, Philip looked for his hat.
"You're not going to leave us so soon, Mr. Gray?" said Mrs. Webbhospitably. "We shall be glad to have you stay with us a day or two, ifyou can content yourself."
"That's right, Lucy. I'm glad you thought to ask him," said her husband.
Philip was tempted to accept this kind invitation. He would have freeboard, and be at no expense, instead of spending the small sum he hadearned the evening previous; but he reflected that he would be no nearersolving the problem of how he was to maintain himself, and while thiswas in uncertainty, he was naturally anxious.
"I am very much obliged to you both," he said. "If I come this wayagain, I shall be glad to call upon you, but now I think I must bepushing on."
"You'll always be welcome, Mr. Gray," said Mrs. Webb.
Philip thanked her, and soon after set out on his way.
He was more cheerful and hopeful than the day before, for then he waswell nigh penniless, and now he had three dollars in his pocket.
Three dollars was not a very large sum, to be sure, but to one who hadbeen so near destitution as Philip it seemed very important.
Besides, he had discovered in his violin a source of income, whereas,hitherto, he had looked upon it merely as a source of amusement. Thismade him feel more independent and self-reliant.
He had walked perhaps two miles, when he heard the rattle of wheelsbehind him. He did not turn his head, for there was nothing strange inthis sound upon a frequented road. He did turn his head, however, whenhe heard a strong voice calling "Hello!"
Turning, he saw that a young man who was driving had slackened the speedof his horse, and was looking toward him.
Philip halted, and regarded the driver inquiringly.
"You're the young chap that played for a dance last night, ain't you!"said the newcomer.
"Yes, sir."
"Then you're the one I want to see--jump in, and we'll talk as we aregoing along."
Philip had no objection to a ride, and he accepted the invitation withalacrity. The driver, he noticed, was a young man, of pleasant manners,though dressed in a coarse suit.
"I drove over to Jonas Webb's to see you, and they told me you had justgone," he continued. "I thought maybe you'd get up late, but you was upon time. Are you engaged for this evening?"
Philip began to prick up his ears and become interested. Was itpossible that his good luck was to continue, and that he was to have anopportunity of earning some more money through his faithful friend, theviolin? He didn't think it well to exhibit the satisfaction he felt, andanswered, in a matter-of-fact tone;
"No, I have no engagement for this evening."
"I'm glad of it," responded the young man, evidently well pleased. "Yousee, we had arranged to have a dance over to our place, but Mr. Beck,being sick, we thought we'd have to give it up. One of my neighborswas over last evening and heard you play, and he thought maybe we couldsecure you."
"I shall be glad to play for you," said Philip politely.
"What are your terms?" asked his companion.
"Three dollars and board and lodging for the time I need to stay."
"That's satisfactory. I'll engage you."
"Is it near here?" asked Philip.
"It's in Conway--only four miles from here. I'll take you right overnow, and you shall stay at my house."
"Thank you, I shall find that very agreeable," said Philip.
"Does Mr. Beck live near you?" asked our hero, a little later.
"Bless you! he lives in our place."
"I suppose his services are in demand?"
"Yes, he is sent for to all the towns around. Fact is, there isn'tanybody but he that can play to suit; but I expect, from what I'veheard, that you can come up to him."
"I couldn't expect to do that," said Philip modestly. "I am very youngyet."
"Folks do say you beat Paul. It seems wonderful, too, considering howyoung you are. What might be your age, now?"
"Just sixteen."
"Sho! you don't say so? Why, Paul Beck's over fifty."
"Mr. Beck won't think I'm interfering with him, will he?" asked Philip.
"Of course, he can't. We'd a had him if he was well. We can't beexpected to put off the party because he's sick. That wouldn't bereasonable, now, would it?"
"I should think not."
Just then Philip became sensible that a light wagon was approaching,driven by a young lady.
He did not, however, suppose it was any one he knew till the carriagestopped, and he heard a voice saying:
"Good morning, Mr. Gray!"
Then he discovered that it was the same young lady who had asked for anintroduction to him the evening previous.
"Good morning, Miss Snodgrass!" he said politely, remembering,fortunately, the young lady's name.
Meanwhile, Maria and Philip's drivers had also exchanged salutations,for they were acquainted.
"And where are you carrying Mr. Gray, Mr. Blake?" she asked.
"I'm carrying him over to our place. He's going to play for us thisevening."
"Is there going to be a dance in Conway this evening?" inquired MissSnodgrass, with sudden interest.
"Yes. Won't you come over?"
"I will, if I can get Jedidiah to bring me," answered Maria.
"I guess there's no doubt about that," answered Andrew Blake, who knewvery well Jedidiah's devotion to the young lady.
"Oh, I don't know!" answered Maria coquettishly. "Perhaps he won't carefor my company."
"If he doesn'
t, you won't have any trouble in finding another beau."
After a little more conversation, the young lady drove away; but notwithout expressing to Philip her delight at having another chance tohear his beautiful playing.
"She'll be there," said Andrew Blake, as they drove away. "She makesJedidiah Burbank do just as she orders him."
"Are they engaged?" asked our hero.
"Yes, I expect so; but there may be some chance of your cutting him out,if you try. The young lady seems to admire you."
Philip smiled.
"I am only a boy of sixteen," he said. "I am too young to think of suchthings. I won't interfere with Mr. Burbank."
"Jedidiah's apt to be jealous," said Blake, "and Maria likes to tormenthim. However, she'll end by marrying him, I guess."
In half an hour or thereabouts, Andrew Blake drew up at the gate of asmall but neat house on the main street in Conway. He was a carpenter,as Philip afterward found, and had built the house himself. He wasprobably of about the same age as Jonas Webb, and like him was marriedto a young wife.
During the afternoon, Philip, being left pretty much to his own devices,took a walk in and about the village, ascending a hill at one side,which afforded him a fine view of that and neighboring villages.
He was pleasantly received and hospitably entertained at the house ofMr. Blake, and about quarter of eight started out for the hall, at whichhe was to play, in company with his host and hostess.
As they approached the hall, a young man approached them with aperplexed face.
"What do you think, Andrew?" he said. "Paul Beck's in the hall, as madas a hatter, and he vows he'll play himself. He says he was engaged, andno one shall take his place."
Andrew Blake looked disturbed, and Philip shared in his feeling. Was heto lose his engagement, after all?
CHAPTER XXII. RIVAL MUSICIANS.
They entered the hall, which was already well filled, for the youngpeople of both sexes liked to have as long a time for enjoyment aspossible.
At the head of the hall, in the center of a group, stood a tall, thinman, dressed in solemn black, with a violin under his arm. His face,which looked like that of a sick man, was marked by an angry expression,and this, indeed, was his feeling.
"I suppose that's Mr. Beck?" said Philip.
"Yes, it is," answered Andrew Blake, in evident discomposure. "What onearth brings him here from a sick-bed, I can't understand. I heard thathe had a fever."
The fact was that Paul Beck was jealous of his reputation as a musician.It was satisfactory to him to think that he was so indispensable thatno one could take his place. He had sent word to the committee that heshould be unable to play for them, supposing, of course, that they wouldbe compelled to give up the party. When intelligence was brought to himduring the afternoon that it would come off, and that another musicianhad been engaged in his place, he was not only disturbed, but angry,though, of course, the latter feeling was wholly unreasonable. Hedetermined that he would be present, at any rate, no matter how unfithis sickness rendered him for the evening's work. He resolved to have norival, and to permit no one to take his place in his own town.
It did not seem to occur to Mr. Beck that, having formally declinedthe engagement on account of sickness, he had no claim whatever on thecommittee, and was, in fact, an interloper. It was in vain that hissister protested against his imprudence. (He was an old bachelor and hissister kept house for him.) He insisted on dressing himself and makinghis way to the hall, where, as was to be expected, his arrival producedconsiderable embarrassment.
Paul Beck stood in sullen impatience awaiting the arrival of his rival.
It so happened that no one had thought to mention to him that it was aboy. He was prepared to see a full-grown man.
Philip followed Andrew Blake up to the central group.
"Who is it, I say," Mr. Beck was inquiring, "that engaged anothermusician to take my place?"
"No one, sir," answered Andrew Blake firmly, for Mr. Beck'sunreasonableness provoked him. "I engaged a musician to play thisevening, but it was not in your place, for you had sent us word that youcould not appear."
"Where is he, I say?" continued Paul Beck sourly.
"Here he is," replied Blake, drawing toward our hero, who felt that hewas placed in an awkward position.
"Why, he's only a baby!" said Beck, surveying our hero contemptuously.
Philip's cheek flushed, and he, too, began to feel angry.
"He isn't as old as you are, Mr. Beck," said Andrew Blake manfully, "butyou'll find he understands his business."
"I certainly didn't expect you to get a child in my place," said PaulBeck scornfully.
"I suppose a musician may know how to play, if he isn't sixty-five,"said Miss Maria Snod-grass, who had listened indignantly to Mr. Beck'scontemptuous remarks about our hero, whose cause she so enthusiasticallychampioned.
Poor Mr. Beck! He was sensitive about his age, and nothing couldhave cut him more cruelly than this exaggeration of it. He was reallyfifty-five, and looked at least sixty, but he fondly flattered himselfthat he looked under fifty. "Sixty-five!" he repeated furiously. "Whosays I am sixty-five?"
"Well, you look about that age," said Maria, with malicious pleasure.
"I shall have to live a good many years before I am sixty," said PaulBeck angrily. "But that's either here nor there. You engaged me to playto-night, and I am ready to do it."
Andrew Blake felt the difficulty of his position, but he did not mean todesert the boy-musician whom he had engaged.
"Mr. Beck," said he, "we shall be glad to have you serve us on anotheroccasion, but to-night Mr. Gray, here, is engaged. You gave up theengagement of your own accord, and that ended the matter, so far as youare concerned."
"Do you refuse to let me play?" demanded Paul Beck, his pale cheekglowing with anger and mortification.
"You understand why," answered Blake. "This young man is engaged, and wehave no right to break the engagement."
Philip, who had felt the embarrassment of his position, had meanwhilemade up his mind what to do. The three dollars he expected to earn wereimportant to him, but he didn't care to make trouble. He did notdoubt that his lodging and meals would be given him, and that would besomething. Accordingly, he spoke:
"I have been engaged, it is true," he said, "but if Mr. Beck wants toplay I will resign my engagement and stay and hear him."
"No, no!" exclaimed several--Mr. Blake and Miss Snodgrass being amongthem.
"Mr. Gray, you were regularly engaged," said one of the committee.
"That's true," answered Philip, "and," he couldn't help adding, "Ishould be justified in insisting upon playing; but since Mr. Beck seemsto feel so bad about it, I will give way to him."
He spoke manfully, and there was no sign of weakness or submissionabout him. He asserted his rights, while he expressed his willingness tosurrender them.
There was a little consultation among the committee. They were alldisgusted with the conduct of Paul Beck, and were unwilling that heshould triumph. At the same time, as they might need his services atsome future time, they did not wish wholly to alienate him.
Finally, they announced their decision through Andrew Blake.
"We are not willing to accept Mr. Gray's resignation wholly," he said,"but we propose that he and Mr. Beck shall divide the evening's workbetween them--each to receive half the usual compensation."
There was considerable applause, for it seemed to be a suitablecompromise, and would enable the company to compare the merits of therival musicians.
"I agree," said Philip promptly.
"What do you say, Mr. Beck?" asked Andrew Blake.
Now, while Paul Beck did not like to give up half the honor, he feltthoroughly convinced that Philip was only a beginner, and that he, asan experienced player, could easily eclipse him, and thus gain a triumphwhich would be very gratifying to his pride.
As for the compensation, to do him justice, he did not much care forthat, being a man of very good mea
ns. He played more for glory than forpay--though he, of course, had no objection to receiving compensation.
"I have no objections," he said. "If you want to give the boy a chanceto practice a little, I am willing."
Philip understood the sneer, and he secretly determined to do his best.
The committee was much pleased at the satisfactory conclusion of whathad threatened to be a very troublesome dispute, and it was arranged,Philip consenting, that Mr. Beck should play first.
The old musician played, in a confident manner, a familiar dancing-tune,accompanying his playing with various contortions of the face andtwistings of his figure, supposed to express feeling. It was a fairperformance, but mechanical, and did not indicate anything but veryordinary talent. His time was good, and dancers always found his playingsatisfactory.
When Paul Beck had completed his task, he looked about him complacently,as if to say, "Let the boy beat that if he can," and sat down.
Philip had listened to Mr. Beck with attention. He was anxious to learnhow powerful a rival he had to compete with. What he heard did not alarmhim, but rather gave him confidence.
CHAPTER XXIII. AN HOUR OF TRIUMPH.
When Paul rose and stood before this audience, violin in hand, hecertainly presented quite a strong contrast to his rival.
Paul Beck, as we have already said, was a tall, thin, lantern-jawed man,clad in solemn black, his face of a sickly, sallow hue.