Phil, the Fiddler

  CHAPTER IV

  AN INVITATION TO SUPPER

  Tim had raised his fist to strike the young fiddler, when he wassuddenly pushed aside with considerable force, and came near measuringhis length on the ground.

  "Who did that?" he cried, angrily, recovering his equilibrium.

  "I did it," said a calm voice.

  Tim recognized in the speaker Paul Hoffman, whom some of my readers willremember as "Paul the Peddler." Paul was proprietor of a necktie standbelow the Astor House, and was just returning home to supper.

  He was a brave and manly boy, and his sympathies were always in favor ofthe oppressed. He had met Phil before, and talked with him, and seeinghim in danger came to his assistance.

  "What made you push me?" demanded Tim, fiercely.

  "What were you going to do to him?" rejoined Paul, indicating theItalian boy.

  "I was only goin' to borrer his fiddle."

  "He would have broken it," said Phil.

  "You don't know how to play," said Paul. "You would have broken hisfiddle, and then he would be beaten."

  "I would pay for it if I did," said Tim.

  "You say so, but you wouldn't. Even if you did, it would take time, andthe boy would have suffered."

  "What business is that of yours?" demanded Tim, angrily.

  "It is always my business when I see a big boy teasing a little one."

  "You'll get hurt some day," said Tim, suddenly.

  "Not by you," returned Paul, not particularly alarmed.

  Tim would have gladly have punished Paul on the spot for hisinterference, but he did not consider it prudent to provoke hostilities.Paul was as tall as himself, and considerably stronger. He thereforewisely confined himself to threatening words.

  "Come along with me, Phil," said Paul, kindly, to the little fiddler.

  "Thank you for saving me," said Phil, gratefully. "The padrone wouldbeat me if the fiddle was broke."

  "Never mind about thanks, Phil. Tim is a bully with small boys, but heis a coward among large ones. Have you had any supper?"

  "No," said Phil.

  "Won't you come home and take supper with me?"

  Phil hesitated.

  "You are kind," he said, "but I fear the padrone."

  "What will he do to you?"

  "He will beat me if I don't bring home enough money."

  "How much more must you get?"

  "Sixty cents."

  "You can play better after a good supper. Come along; I won't keep youlong."

  Phil made no more objection. He was a healthy boy, and his wanderingshad given him a good appetite. So he thanked Paul, and walked along byhis side. One object Paul had in inviting him was, the fear that TimRafferty might take advantage of his absence to renew his assault uponPhil, and with better success than before.

  "How old are you, Phil?" he asked.

  "Twelve years."

  "And who taught you to play?"

  "No one. I heard the other boys play, and so I learned."

  "Do you like it?"

  "Sometimes; but I get tired of it."

  "I don't wonder. I should think playing day after day might tire you.What are you going to do when you become a man?"

  Phil shrugged his shoulders.

  "I don't know," he said. "I think I'll go back to Italy."

  "Have you any relations there?"

  "I have a mother and two sisters."

  "And a father?"

  "Yes, a father."

  "Why did they let you come away?"

  "The padrone gave my father money."

  "Don't you hear anything from home?"

  "No, signore."

  "I am not a signore," said Paul, smiling. "You may call me Paul. Is thatan Italian name?"

  "Me call it Paolo."

  "That sounds queer to me. What's James in Italian?"

  "Giacomo."

  "Then I have a little brother Giacomo."

  "How old is he?"

  "Eight years old."

  "My sister Bettina is eight years. I wish I could see her."

  "You will see her again some day, Phil. You will get rich in America,and go back to sunny Italy."

  "The padrone takes all my money."

  "You'll get away from the old rascal some day. Keep up good courage,Phil, and all will come right. But here we are. Follow me upstairs, andI will introduce you to my mother and Giacomo," said Paul, laughing atthe Italian name he had given his little brother.

  Mrs. Hoffman and Jimmy looked with some surprise at the little fiddleras he entered with Paul.

  "Mother," said Paul, "this is one of my friends, whom I have invited totake supper with us."

  "He is welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman, kindly. "Have you ever spoken to usof him?"

  "I am not sure. His name is Phil--Phil the fiddler, we call him."

  "Filippo," said the young musician.

  "We will call you Phil; it is easier to speak," said Paul. "This is mylittle brother Jimmy. He is a great artist."

  "Now you are laughing at me, Paul," said the little boy.

  "Well, he is going to be a great artist some day, if he isn't one yet.Do you think, Jimmy, you could draw Phil, here, with his fiddle?"

  "I think I could," said the little boy, slowly, looking carefully attheir young guest; "but it would take some time."

  "Perhaps Phil will come some day, and give you a sitting."

  "Will you come?" asked Jimmy.

  "I will come some day."

  Meanwhile Mrs. Hoffman was preparing supper. Since Paul had becomeproprietor of the necktie stand, as described in the last volume, theywere able to live with less regard to economy than before. So, when thetable was spread, it presented quite a tempting appearance. Beefsteak,rolls, fried potatoes, coffee, and preserves graced the board.

  "Supper is ready, Paul," said his mother, when all was finished.

  "Here, Phil, you may sit here at my right hand," said Paul. "I will putyour violin where it will not be injured."

  Phil sat down as directed, not without feeling a little awkward, yetwith a sense of anticipated pleasure. Accustomed to bread and cheesealone, the modest repast before him seemed like a royal feast. The meatespecially attracted him, for he had not tasted any for months, indeedseldom in his life, for in Italy it is seldom eaten by the class towhich Phil's parents belonged.

  "Let me give you some meat, Phil," said Paul. "Now, shall we drink thehealth of the padrone in coffee?"

  "I will not drink his health," said Phil. "He is a bad man."

  "Who is the padrone?" asked Jimmy, curiously.

  "He is my master. He sends me out to play for money."

  "And must you give all the money you make to him?"

  "Yes; if I do not bring much money, he will beat me."

  "Then he must be a bad man. Why do you live with him?"

  "He bought me from my father."

  "He bought you?" repeated Jimmy, puzzled.

  "He hires him for so much money," explained Paul.

  "But why did your father let you go with a bad man?" asked Jimmy.

  "He wanted the money," said Phil. "He cared more for money than for me."

  What wonder that the boys sold into such cruel slavery should beestranged from the fathers who for a few paltry ducats sell the libertyand happiness of their children. Even where the contract is for alimited terms of years, the boys in five cases out of ten are notreturned at the appointed time. A part, unable to bear the hardships andprivations of the life upon which they enter, are swept off by death,while of those that survive, a part are weaned from their homes, or arenot permitted to go back.

  "You must not ask too many questions, Jimmy." said Mrs. Hoffman, fearingthat he might awaken sad thoughts in the little musician.

  She was glad to see that Phil ate with a good appetite. In truth herelished the supper, which was the best he remembered to have tasted formany a long day.

  "Is Italy like America?" asked Jimmy, whose curiosity was excited tolearn something of Phil's birthp
lace.

  "It is much nicer," said Phil, with a natural love of country. "Thereare olive trees and orange trees, and grapes--very many."

  "Are there really orange trees? Have you seen them grow?"

  "I have picked them from the trees many times."

  "I should like that, but I don't care for olives."

  "They are good, too."

  "I should like the grapes."

  "There are other things in Italy which you would like better, Jimmy,"said Paul.

  "What do you mean, Paul?"

  "The galleries of fine paintings."

  "Yes, I should like to see them. Have you seen them?"

  Phil shook his head. The picture galleries are in the cities, and not inthe country district where he was born.

  "Sometime, when I am rich, we will all go to Italy, Jimmy; then, if Philis at home, we will go and see him."

  "I should like that, Paul."

  Though Jimmy was not yet eight years old, he had already exhibiteda remarkable taste for drawing, and without having received anyinstruction, could copy any ordinary picture with great exactness. Itwas the little boy's ambition to become an artist, and in this ambitionhe was encouraged by Paul, who intended, as soon as he could afford it,to engage an instructor for Jimmy.