ive, and I can't play at all."

"It isn't all in the age," returned our hero. "Did you ever try to
learn?"

"Yes, I took one or two lessons, but I had to give it up for a bad job.
I couldn't get into it somehow."

"You didn't try very long," said Philip, smiling.

"I reckon I'd never do much at it. How long have you been a fiddler?"

"I've been playing three or four years."

"Sho! You don't say so! Do you like it?"

"Yes; very much."

"Well, I'm glad you happened along. It would have been a pity to have
our dance spoiled."

By this time they had reached the farmhouse, and Abner went in, followed
by our hero.

A young woman, his brother's wife, looked at Philip in some surprise.

"You see, I've got a fiddler, after all," said Abner gleefully. "We
won't have to put off the dance."

As he spoke, his brother Jonas came into the room, and the explanation
was repeated.

"That's good," said Jonas heartily. "You'd better go down to the store
after supper, Abner, and tell the boys, for they've just heard that Paul
Beck can't come."

"You just save me some supper, and I'll go now. The boy'll stay with us
to-night. That's the bargain I made with him."

"He's heartily welcome," said Jonas Webb, a pleasant-faced man, with
sandy complexion, who was probably from two to three years older than
his brother. "You've happened along just at the right time."

"I am glad of it," said Philip; and there is no doubt he was sincere,
for we know how much he stood in need of employment, though he naturally
did not care to let his new friends know of his destitution.

"My brother didn't tell me your name," said Jonas.

"My name is Philip Gray," answered our hero.

"Do you go round playing for dances?" inquired Jonas.

"I have only just begun."

Philip didn't think it necessary to say that the idea of making money in
this way had never occurred to him till this very day.

"Sit right up to supper, Jonas, and you, too, Mr. Gray," said Mrs. Webb.

Philip was by no means loath, for the dishes which he saw on the table
had had the effect of stimulating his appetite, already sharpened by his
long walk and long fast.

Philip, as the guest, was first helped to a bountiful supply of cold
meat, a hot biscuit, and some golden butter, not to mention two kinds
of preserves, for the Webbs always lived well. He was not slow in doing
justice to the good supper spread before him. He was almost afraid to
eat as much as he wanted, lest h