the
Lake View Inn, now entering the store.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Drugg!" he called after the storekeeper's retreating
wife. "I won't bite ye."

"Mr. Drugg will be right in," said 'Rill, beckoning Janice away.

Hopewell entered, violin in hand. He greeted Janice in his quiet way
and then spoke to Bodley.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Bodley?"

"Now, how about that fiddle, Hopewell? D'ye really want to sell it?"
asked the bartender, lightly.

"I--I must sell it, Mr. Bodley. I feel that I _must_," said Hopewell,
in his gentle way.

"It's as good as sold, then, old feller," said the barkeeper. "I've
got a customer for it."

"Ah! but I must have my price. Otherwise it will do me no good to sell
the violin which I prize so highly--and which my father played before
me."

"That's Yankee talk," laughed Bodley. "How much?"

"I believe it is a valuable instrument--a very valuable instrument,"
said poor Hopewell, evidently in fear of not making the sale, yet
determined to obtain what he considered a fair price for it. "At
least, I know 't is an _old_ violin."

"One of the 'old masters,' eh?" chuckled Bodley.

"Perhaps. I do not think you will care to pay my price, sir," said the
storekeeper, with dignity.

"I've got a customer for it. He seen it down to the dance--and he
wants it. What's your price?" repeated Bodley.

"I thought some of sending it to New York to be valued," Hopewell said
slowly.

"My man will buy it--sight unseen, as ye might say--on my recommend.
He only saw it for a moment," said Bodley.

"What will he give for it?" asked Hopewell.

"How much do you want?"

"One hundred dollars, Mr. Bodley," said the storekeeper, this time with
more firmness.

"_What_? One hundred of your grandmother's grunts! Why, Hopewell,
there _ain't_ so much money--not in Polktown, at least--'nless it's hid
away in a broken teapot on the top shelf of a cupboard in Elder
Concannon's house. They say he's got the first dollar he ever earned,
and most all that he's gathered since that time."

Janice heard all this as she stood in the back room with 'Rill. Then,
having excused herself to the storekeeper's wife, she ran out of the
side door to go across the street to Mrs. Beaseley's.

In fact, she could not bear to stay there and hear Hopewell bargain for
the sale of his precious violin. It seemed too, too, bad! It had been
his comfort--his only consolation, indeed--for the many years that
circumstances had