The Young Musician; Or, Fighting His Way

CHAPTER IV. THE AUCTION

It so happened that Nick Holden met Squire Pope on the village street, and, being rather disappointed at the result of his negotiations with Philip, thought it might be a good idea to broach the subject to the squire, who, as he knew, had taken it upon himself to superintend the sale of Mr. Gray’s goods.

“I say, squire, I’ve just been over to see Phil Gray.”

“Ahem! Well, how does he seem to feel?”

“Kinder stuck up, I reckon. He said he wouldn’t go to the poorhouse, and I might tell you so.”

“I apprehend,” said the squire, in his stately way, “he will be under the necessity of going, whether he likes it or not.”

“Just so; that’s what I told him!” interjected Nick.

“And he should be grateful for so comfortable a home,” continued the public man.

“Well, I dunno,” said Nick. “They do say that old Tucker most starves the paupers. Why his bills with dad are awful small.”

“The town cannot afford to pamper the appetites of its beneficiaries,” said the squire. “Where is Philip now?”

“I guess he’s at home. I offered to buy his fiddle, but he said he was going to keep it. I offered him a dollar and sixty-four cents—the same as dad’s bill against his father, but he wouldn’t take it.”

“Really, Nicholas, your offer was very irregular—extremely irregular. It should have been made to me, as the administrator of the late Mr. Gray, and not to a boy like Philip.”

“Will you sell me the fiddle for dad’s bill, squire?” asked Nicholas eagerly.

“You are premature, Nicholas—”

“What’s that?”

“I mean you must wait till the auction. Then you will have a chance to bid on the instrument, if you want to secure it.”

“Phil says it’s his, and won’t be for sale at the auction.”

“Then Philip is mistaken. He is only a boy. The estate will be settled by those who are older and wiser than he.”

“I guess you’ll find him hard to manage, squire,” said Nick, laughing.

“We shall see—we shall see,” returned the squire.

And, with a dignified wave of the hand, he continued on his walk.

After the visit of Nicholas, Philip thought it most prudent to convey the violin which he prized so much to the house of his friend, Frank Dunbar, where he had been invited to take his meals.

He was willing to have the furniture sold to defray his father’s small debts, but the violin was his own. It had not even been given him by his father. Though the latter purchased it, the money which it cost had been given to Philip by a friend of the family. He rightly thought that he had no call to sell it now.

“Frank,” said he to his boy-friend, “I want you to put away my violin safely, and keep it until after the auction.”

“Of course I will, Phil; but won’t you want to play on it!”

“Not at present. I’ll tell you why I want it put away.”

And Philip told his friend about Nick’s application to purchase it, and the liberal offer he had made.

“Nick’s generosity never will hurt him much,” said Frank, laughing. “What in the world did he want of your violin?”

“He wants to make himself popular with the girls.”

“He’ll never do that, even if he learns to play like an angel!” said Frank. “You ought to hear the girls talk about him. He couldn’t get a single one of them to go home with from singing-school last winter. He teased my sister to go, but she told him every time she was engaged to some one else.”

The two days that intervened between the funeral and the auction passed, and the last scene connecting Philip with the little cottage which had been his home was to take place.

In a country town, an auction-however inconsiderable-draws together an interested company of friends and neighbors; and, though no articles of value were to be sold, this was the case at the present sale.

Philip didn’t at first mean to be present. He thought it would only give him pain; but at the last moment he came, having been requested to do so by Squire Pope, as information might be required which he could give.

The bulk of the furniture was soon disposed of, at low prices, to be sure, but sufficiently high to make it clear that enough would be realized to pay the small bills outstanding.

Philip’s lip quivered when his father’s watch was put up. He would have liked to buy it, but this was impossible; for he had only about a dollar of his own.

Nick Holden’s eyes sparkled when he saw the watch. He had forgotten about that, but as soon as he saw it he coveted it. He had a cheap silver watch of his own, which he had bought secondhand about three years before. He had thought that he might some day possess a gold watch, but he was not willing to lay out the necessary sum of money.

By dint of actual meanness, he had laid up two hundred dollars, which he now had in the savings-bank in the next village, and he could therefore have bought one if he had chosen; but, like Gilpin,

“Though on pleasure bent, he had a frugal mind.”

Now, however, there seemed a chance of getting a gold watch at a low price. Nick reasoned rightly that at an auction it would go much below its value, and it would be a good thing for him to buy it—even as an investment—as he would probably have chances enough to trade it off at a handsome profit.

“I shouldn’t wonder if I could double my money on it,” he reflected.

Accordingly, when the watch was put up, Nick eagerly bid two dollars.

Philip’s lip curled when he heard this generous bid, and he heartily hoped that this treasured possession of his dead father might not fall into such hands.

Nick rather hoped that no one would bid against him, but in this he was destined to be disappointed.

“Five dollars!” was next heard.

And this bid came from Mr. Dunbar, the father of his friend Frank. Philip’s eyes brightened up, for there was no one he would sooner see the possessor of the watch than his kind friend.

Nick looked chopfallen when he heard this large increase on his original bid, and hesitated to continue, but finally mustered up courage to say, in a rather feeble tone:

“Five and a quarter.”

“Five dollars and a quarter bid!” said the auctioneer. “Do I hear more?”

“Six dollars,” said Mr. Dunbar quietly.

The bid was repeated, and the auctioneer waited for a higher one, but Nick retired ignominiously from the contest.

He wasn’t sure whether he could get much over six dollars for it himself, and he foresaw that Mr. Dunbar intended to have it, even if it cost considerable more.

“It’s kinder hard on a feller,” he complained to the man standing next him. “What does Mr. Dunbar want of the watch? He’s got one already.”

“Perhaps he thinks it is a good bargain at the price.”

“It’s what I’ve been wantin’ all along,” said Nick. “He might have let me have it.”

“Why don’t you bid more?”

“I wanted to get it cheap.”

“And the auctioneer wants to get as much as he can for the articles, and so do Philip’s friends,” This was a consideration which, of course, had no weight with Nicholas. However, he had one comfort. He would bid on the violin, and probably no one else would bid against it. He did not see it, to be sure, but concluded, of course, that it would be bid off. When the sale drew near the end, he went to Philip, and said:

“Whereabouts is the fiddle, Phil?”

“It isn’t here,” answered our hero.

“Ain’t it goin’ to be sold?”

“Of course not! It’s mine. I told you that once already.”

“We’ll see!” said Nicholas angrily.

And going up to Squire Pope, he held a brief conversation with that gentleman.

The squire nodded vigorously, and walked over to Philip.

“Philip,” said he, “go and bring your violin.”

“What will I do that for!” asked our hero quietly.

“So that it may be sold.”

“It is not to be sold,” returned Philip quietly. “It belongs to me.”

“Nothing belongs to you except your clothes!” said the squire angrily. “I require you to go and fetch the instrument.”

“And I decline to do it,” said Philip.

“Do you know who I am,” demanded the squire, with ruffled dignity.

“I know you perfectly well,” answered Philip “but I am the owner of the violin, and I don’t mean to have it sold.”

“YOU will repent this!” said Squire Pope, who felt that his lawful authority and official dignity were set at naught.

Philip bowed and left the house. He did not know what steps the squire might take, but he was resolved not to give up his cherished violin.

CHAPTER V. AN ALLIANCE AGAINST PHILIP

Squire Pope was not a bad man, nor was he by nature a tyrant, but he was so fully convinced of his own superior judgment that he was in all things obstinately bent on having his own way. He had persuaded himself that our young hero, Philip, would be better off in the poorhouse than in a place where he could earn his own living, and no one could convince him to the contrary.

As to the boy’s feelings on the subject, he considered those of no importance. He had good reason to know that Philip would object to being an inmate of the almshouse, but he was determined that he should go there.

In like manner, before the auction was over, he saw clearly that it would realize a sum more than sufficient to pay the funeral expenses of the late Mr. Gray and the few small bills outstanding against his estate, and that there was no necessity that Philip’s violin should be sold, but none the less he resolved that it should be sold.

“Shall I allow a young lad to dictate to me?” Squire Pope asked himself, in irritation. “Certainly not! I know better what is right than he. It is ridiculous that a town pauper should own a violin. Why, the next thing, we shall have to buy pianos for our almshouses, for the use of the gentlemen and ladies who occupy them. A violin, indeed!”

This Squire Pope regarded as irresistible logic and withering sarcasm combined.

He saw Philip go out of the cottage, but, as the sale was not over, he was unable to follow him.

“Never mind, I’ll fix him as soon as I have time,” he said to himself.

“Back so soon? Is the auction over!” asked his friend, Frank Dunbar, who was engaged in splitting wood in the rear of the house.

“No, Frank, not quite; but it’s almost over..Who do you think bid on father’s gold watch?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nick Holden.”

“He didn’t get it, did he?”

“I am glad to say not. Your father bought it.”

“Did he! Why, he’s got one watch already.”

“I am glad he’s got it. I couldn’t bear to think of Nick Holden carrying my father’s watch. He was disappointed about one thing besides.”

“What was that?”

“The violin. He went to Squire Pope, and complained that it was not in the sale.”

“That’s just like his impudence. What did the squire say?”

“He came to me and ordered me to get it, so that it might be sold.”

“Shall I get it for you, then?”

“Not much!” answered Philip emphatically. “It is mine, as I have already told you. If the auction doesn’t bring in enough to settle up everything, I may agree to sell it for a fair price; but I am sure, from the prices, that it won’t be necessary.”

“Squire Pope’s a dreadful obstinate man,” said Frank doubtfully. “He may insist upon your selling the violin.”

“Let him do it!” said Philip contemptuously. “I should like to see him get it. Where have you put it, Frank?”

“Where Squire Pope won’t be apt to find it—in an old chest up in the garret. It’s full of old clothes, belonging to my grandfather, and hasn’t been looked into by any one except me for years. I put it away under all the clothes at the bottom. No one knows where it is except you and me, not even mother.”

“That’s good. I guess we can defy the squire, then.”

Half an hour later, Mr. Dunbar came home from the auction.

Philip went to meet him.

“Thank you for buying father’s watch,” he said. “But for you, Nick Holden would have had it, and I should have been sorry for it.”

“He was badly disappointed,” said Mr. Dunbar smiling. “But I didn’t buy the watch for myself, Philip.”

“For whom, then?” asked Philip, in some surprise.

“For the one that has the best right to it—for you,” and the farmer took the watch from his pocket, and handed it to Philip.

“But I haven’t the money to pay for it, Mr. Dunbar,” said our hero.

“Then I give it to you as a present,” said Mr. Dunbar.

“I am very grateful,” said Philip; “but I ought not to accept it. You are too kind to me.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“Besides, it wouldn’t be safe for me to take it. Squire Pope will try to get my violin away from me in order to sell it, and he would be sure to try to do the same by the watch if he found that I had it.”

“But, Philip, I don’t need the watch myself.”

“Then, Mr. Dunbar, will you be kind enough to keep it for me, and when I can afford to pay for it, and there is no danger of its being taken from me, I will ask you for it. I shall be very glad, indeed, when I am older, to carry my father’s watch, for I have seen it in his hands so often that it will constantly remind me of him.”

“Perhaps that will be the best arrangement,” said Mr. Dunbar. “You might have it stolen from you, if you carried it yourself just at present. As you request, I will keep it, subject to your order; but I would rather let it be a gift from me, and not require you to pay for it.”

“We won’t talk about that now,” said Philip, smiling. “At any rate, you must let me thank you for your great kindness to me.”

“Don’t speak of that, Phil,” said the farmer kindly. “I had a great respect and liking for your father, and I verily believe my Frank loves you as well as if you were his own brother. So, come what may, you have a friend in our family.”

“I indorse all that father says,” Frank said.

And he extended his hand to Philip, who grasped it heartily.

It warmed his heart to think that he had such good friends, though he was an orphan and alone in the world.

After supper, Mr. Dunbar went to the village store, while Frank and Philip remained at home.

Suddenly Frank said:

“Philip, you are going to have a visitor, I guess.”

“A visitor!”

“Yes; I saw Squire Pope stumping along the road, nourishing his gold-headed cane. He is headed this way, and it’s likely he is going to honor you with a call. He’s got somebody with him, too. Who is it!”

Philip shaded his eyes with his hand, for the Sun was near its setting, and shining with dazzling brightness from the quarter toward which he was looking.

“It’s Nick Holden!” he said.

“So it is! What can he want?”

“I understand very well. He wants my violin. He couldn’t get it at the sale, so he has come here to see if he can’t make me give it to him.”

“And will you?”

“You ought to know me better than to ask, Frank,” said Philip firmly. “Nick might as well have stayed away, for he won’t accomplish anything.”

Nick, however, held a different opinion. After Philip left the cottage, he had gone to Squire Pope, and cunningly asked:

“Are you going to let Philip keep his fiddle in spite of you, squire?”

“What do you mean, Nicholas?” demanded the squire, in a stately way.

“Why, seems to me he’s kinder settin’ up his will agin yours. You say the fiddle shall be sold, and he says it shan’t. He told me he didn’t care what you said, he should keep it.”

“Did he say that, Nicholas?” asked the squire, who felt that his dignity was outraged by such insolence.

“I’m sartain he did. He’s pretty big feelin’, Phil is. He always wants to have his own way.”

“He will find that he can’t defy me with impunity,” said the squire stiffly.

“Just so. Then you’ll sell me the fiddle?”

“I will!” said the squire emphatically.

“You won’t ask too much, will you?” asked Nick anxiously.

Now Squire Pope, who knew nothing of the price of violins, and had a very inadequate idea of their value, after some haggling on the part of Nick, agreed to sell him the instrument for two dollars and a half, and to see that it was delivered that evening.

“Do you know where it is, Nicholas?” he asked.

“Why, Phil is staying over at Frank Dunbar’s, and I guess he’s got it there somewhere. I guess we’d better go over there and get it.”

“Very well, Nicholas. After supper, if you will come to my house, I will go over there, and see that you have the instrument.”

“All right, squire!” said Nick gleefully, “Phil will find that he can’t have his own way this time.”

“I apprehend he will,” said the squire complacently.

Now the reader understands how it happened that Squire Pope and Nick Holden made a call on Philip. As to what passed at the interview, we must refer him to the next chapter.

CHAPTER VI. 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 see such impudence!” ejaculated Nick Holden, wishing to egg on the squire.

“Do you mean to defy me to my face?” demoded 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.