d at Philip through his
small, fishy eyes, as if he had made an uncommonly liberal offer. As for
Philip, he hardly knew whether to be angry or amused.

"You offer me a dollar and sixty-four cents for my violin?" he repeated.

"Yes. It's second-hand, to be sure, but I guess it's in pretty fair
condition. Besides, you might help me a little about learnin' how to
play."

"How much do you suppose the violin cost?" inquired Philip.

"Couldn't say."

"It cost my father twenty-five dollars."

"Oh, come, now, that's too thin! You don't expect a feller to believe
such a story as that?"

"I expect to be believed, for I never tell anything but the truth."

"Oh, well, I don't expect you do, generally, but when it comes to
tradin', most everybody lies," observed Nick candidly.

"I have no object in misrepresenting, for I don't want to sell the
violin."

"You can't afford to keep it! The town won't let you!"

"The town won't let me?" echoed Philip, now thoroughly mystified.

"Of course they won't. The idea of a pauper bein' allowed a fiddle to
play on! Why, it's ridiculous!"

"What do you mean?" demanded Philip, who now began to comprehend the
meaning of this thick-witted visitor. "What have I got to do with the
town, or with paupers?"

"Why, you're goin' to the poorhouse, ain't you?"

"Certainly not!" answered Philip, with flashing eyes.

"I guess you're mistaken," said Nick coolly. "Squire Pope was over to
our shop this mornin', and he told dad that the seleckmen were goin' to
send you there after the auction."

Philip's eyes flashed angrily. He felt insulted and outraged. Never for
a moment had he conceived the idea that any one would regard him as a
candidate for the poorhouse.

He had an honorable pride in maintaining himself, and would rather get
along on one meal a day, earned by himself in honest independence, than
be indebted to public charity even for a luxurious support.

"Squire Pope doesn't know what he's talking about," retorted Philip, who
had to exercise some self-restraint not to express himself more forcibly
"and you can tell him so when you see him. I am no more likely to go to
the poorhouse than you are!"

"Come, that's a good one," chuckled Nick. "Talk of me goin' to the
poorhouse, when my father pays one of the biggest taxes in town! Of
course, it's different with you."

"You'll have to excuse me now," said Philip, determined to get rid of
his disagreeable companion. "I have something