n David sprang to his feet, placing
Juliette somewhat unceremoniously on the floor, much to that petted
young autocrat's disgust.

"Here, where is he? Let me show him," cried the boy, and at the note of
command in his voice, Jill involuntarily rose and opened the door to
Jack's den.

"Oh, please, Mr. Jack," burst out David, hurrying into the room. "Don't
you see? You don't go at that thing right. If you'll just let me show
you a minute, we'll have it fixed in no time!"

The man with the violin stared, and lowered his bow. A slow red came to
his face. The phrase was peculiarly a difficult one, and beyond him, as
he knew; but that did not make the present intrusion into his privacy
any the more welcome.

"Oh, will we, indeed!" he retorted, a little sharply. "Don't trouble
yourself, I beg of you, boy."

"But it isn't a mite of trouble, truly," urged David, with an ardor
that ignored the sarcasm in the other's words. "I WANT to do it."

Despite his annoyance, the man gave a short laugh.

"Well, David, I believe you. And I'll warrant you'd tackle this Brahms
concerto as nonchalantly as you did those six hoodlums with the cat the
other day--and expect to win out, too!"

"But, truly, this is easy, when you know how," laughed the boy. "See!"

To his surprise, the man found himself relinquishing the violin and bow
into the slim, eager hands that reached for them. The next moment he
fell back in amazement. Clear, distinct, yet connected like a string of
rounded pearls fell the troublesome notes from David's bow. "You see,"
smiled the boy again, and played the phrase a second time, more slowly,
and with deliberate emphasis at the difficult part. Then, as if in
answer to some irresistible summons within him, he dashed into the next
phrase and, with marvelous technique, played quite through the rippling
cadenza that completed the movement.

"Well, by George!" breathed the man dazedly, as he took the offered
violin. The next moment he had demanded vehemently: "For Heaven's sake,
who ARE you, boy?"

David's face wrinkled in grieved surprise.

"Why, I'm David. Don't you remember? I was here just the other day!"

"Yes, yes; but who taught you to play like that?"

"Father."

"'Father'!" The man echoed the word with a gesture of comic despair.
"First Latin, then jiujitsu, and now the violin! Boy, who was your
father?"

David lifted his head and frowned a little. He had been questioned so
often, and so unsympathetical