CHAPTER XXV
PHIL FINDS A FRIEND
It was the evening before Christmas. Until to-day the winter had been anopen one, but about one o'clock in the afternoon the snow began to fall.The flakes came thicker and faster, and it soon became evident that anold-fashioned snowstorm had set in. By seven o'clock the snow lay a footdeep on the level, but in some places considerably deeper, for a briskwind had piled it up in places.
In a handsome house, some rods back from the village street, lived Dr.Drayton, a physician, whose skill was so well appreciated that he hadalready, though still in the prime of life, accumulated a handsomecompetence.
He sat this evening in his library, in dressing-gown and slippers, hiswife nearby engaged in some needlework.
"I hope you won't be called out this evening, Joseph," said Mrs.Drayton, as a gust of wind tattled the window panes.
"I echo that wish, my dear," said the doctor, looking up from the lastnumber of the Atlantic Monthly. "I find it much more comfortable here,reading Dr. Holmes' last article."
"The snow must be quite deep."
"It is. I found my ride from the north village this afternoon bleakenough. You know how the wind sweeps across the road near the Pondschoolhouse. I believe there is to be a Christmas-eve celebration in theTown Hall this evening, is there not?"
"No; it has been postponed till to-morrow evening."
"That will be better. The weather and walking will both be better. Shallwe go, Mary?"
"If you wish it," she said, hesitatingly.
Her husband understood her hesitation. Christmas day was a sadanniversary for them. Four years before, their only son, Walter, a boyof eight, had died just as the Christmas church bells were ringing out asummons to church. Since then the house had been a silent one, the quietunbroken by childish noise and merriment. Much as the doctor and hiswife were to each other, both felt the void which Walter's death hadcreated, and especially as the anniversary came around which called tomind their great loss.
"I think we had better go," said the doctor; "though God has bereft usof our own child, it will be pleasant for us to watch the happy faces ofothers."
"Perhaps you are right, Joseph."
Half an hour passed. The doctor continued reading the Atlantic, whilehis wife, occupied with thoughts which the conversation had called up,kept on with her work.
Just then the bell was heard to ring.
"I hope it is not for you, Joseph," said his wife, apprehensively.
"I am afraid it is," said the doctor, with a look of resignation.
"I thought it would be too good luck for me to have the whole evening tomyself."
"I wish you were not a doctor," said Mrs. Drayton.
"It is rather too late to change my profession, my dear," said herhusband, good-humoredly. "I shall be fifty next birthday. To be sure,Ellen Jones tells me that in her class at the Normal School there is amaiden lady of sixty-two, who has just begun to prepare herself for theprofession of a teacher. I am not quite so old as that."
Here the servant opened the door, ushering in a farm laborer.
"Good-evening, Abner," said the doctor, recognizing him, as, indeed, heknew every face within half a dozen miles. "Anything amiss at home?"
"Mrs. Felton is took with spasms," said Abner. "Can you come rightover?"
"What have you done for her?"
"Put her feet in warm water, and put her to bed. Can you come rightover?"
"Yes," said the doctor, rising and exchanging his dressing-gown fora coat, and drawing on his boots. "I will go as soon as my horse isready."
Orders were sent out to put the horse to the sleigh. This was quicklydone, and the doctor, fully accoutered, walked to the door.
"I shall be back as soon as I can, Mary," he said.
"That won't be very soon. It is a good two-miles' ride."
"I shan't loiter on the way, you may be sure of that. Abner, I amready."
The snow was still falling, but not quite so fast as early in theafternoon. The wind, however, blew quite as hard, and the doctor foundall his wrappings needful.
At intervals on the road he came to deep drifts of snow through whichthe horse had some difficulty in drawing the sleigh, but at length hearrived at the door of his patient. He found that the violence of herattack was over, and, satisfied of this, left a few simple directions,which he considered sufficient. Nature would do the rest.
"Now for home!" he said to himself. "I hope this will be my lastprofessional call this evening. Mary will be impatient for my return."
He gave the reins to his horse, who appeared to feel that he was boundhomeward, and traveled with more alacrity than he had come.
He, too, no doubt shared the doctor's hope that this was the lastservice required of him before the morrow.
Doctor Drayton had completed rather more than half his journey, when,looking to the right, his attention was drawn to a small, dark object,nearly covered with snow.
Instinctively he reined up his horse.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "it must be a boy. God grant he is notfrozen!"
He leaped from his sleigh, and lifted the insensible body.
"It is an Italian boy, and here is his violin. The poor child may bedead," he said to himself in a startled tone. "I must carry him home,and see what I can do for him."
So he took up tenderly our young hero--for our readers will have guessedthat it was Phil--and put both him and his violin into the sleigh. Thenhe drove home with a speed which astonished even his horse, who, thoughanxious to reach his comfortable stable, would not voluntarily have putforth so great an exertion as was now required of him.
I must explain that Phil had for the last ten days been traveling aboutthe country, getting on comfortably while the ground was bare of snow.To-day, however, had proved very uncomfortable. In the city the snowwould have been cleared off, and would not have interfered so much withtraveling.
He had bought some supper at a grocery store, and, after spending anhour there, had set out again on his wanderings. He found the walking sobad that he made up his mind to apply for a lodging at a house notfar back; but a fierce dog, by his barking, had deterred him from theapplication. The road was lonely, and he had seen no other house since.Finally, exhausted by the effort of dragging himself through the deepsnow, and, stiff with cold, he sank down by the side of the road, andwould doubtless have frozen had not the doctor made his appearanceopportunely.
Mrs. Drayton was alarmed when her husband entered the sitting-room,bearing Phil's insensible form.
She jumped to her feet in alarm.
"Who is it, Joseph?" she asked.
"A poor Italian boy, whom I found by the side of the road."
"Is he dead?" asked the doctor's wife, quickly.
"I think not. I will restore him if there is any life left in him."
It was fortunate for Phil that he had been discovered by a skillfulphysician, who knew the most effectual means of bringing him to. Theflame of life was burning low, and a little longer exposure would haveclosed the earthly career of our young hero. But he was spared, as wehope, for a happy and useful career.
By the application of powerful restoratives Phil was at length broughtround. His chilled limbs grew warm, and his heart began to beat moresteadily and strongly. A bed was brought down to the sitting-room, andhe was placed in it.
"Where am I?" he asked faintly, when he opened his eyes.
"You are with friends, my boy. Don't ask questions now. In the morning,you may ask as many as you like."
Phil closed his eyes languidly, and soon fell into a sound sleep.
Nature was doing her work well and rapidly.
In the morning Phil woke up almost wholly restored.
As he opened his eyes, he met the kind glances of the doctor and hiswife.
"How do you feel this morning?" asked the doctor.
"I feel well," said Phil, looking around him with curiosity.
"Do you think you could eat some breakfast?" ask
ed Dr. Drayton, with asmile.
"Yes, sir," said Phil.
"Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some as soon as you aredressed. But I see from your looks you want to know where you are andhow you came here. Don't you remember the snow-storm yesterday?"
Phil shuddered. He remembered it only too well.
"I found you lying by the side of the road about half-past eight in theevening. I suppose you don't remember my picking you up?"
"No, sir."
"You were insensible. I was afraid at first you were frozen. But Ibrought you home, and, thanks to Providence, you are all right again."
"Where is my fiddle?" asked Phil, anxiously.
"It is safe. There it is on the piano."
Phil was relieved to see that his faithful companion was safe. He lookedupon it as his stock in trade, for without it he would not have knownhow to make his livelihood.
He dressed quickly, and was soon seated at the doctor's well-spreadtable. He soon showed that, in spite of his exposure and narrow escapefrom death, he had a hearty appetite. Mrs. Drayton saw him eat with truemotherly pleasure, and her natural love of children drew her toward ouryoung hero, and would have done so even had he been less attractive.
"Joseph," she said, addressing her husband, "I want to speak to you amoment."
He followed her out of the room.
"Well, my dear?" he said.
"I want to ask a favor."
"It is granted in advance."
"Perhaps you will not say so when you know what it is."
"I can guess it. You want to keep this boy."
"Are you willing?"
"I would have proposed it, if you had not. He is without friends andpoor. We have enough and to spare. We will adopt him in place of ourlost Walter."
"Thank you, Joseph. It will make me happy. Whatever I do for him, I willdo for my lost darling."
They went back into the room. They found Phil with his cap on and hisfiddle under his arm.
"Where are you going, Philip?" asked the doctor.
"I am going into the street. I thank you for your kindness."
"Would you not rather stay with us?"
Phil looked up, uncertain of his meaning.
"We had a boy once, but he is dead. Will you stay with us and be ourboy?"
Phil looked in the kind faces of the doctor and his wife, and his facelighted up with joy at the unexpected prospect of such a home, withpeople who would be kind to him.
"I will stay," he said. "You are very kind to me."
So our little hero had drifted into a snug harbor. His toils andprivations were over. And for the doctor and his wife it was a glad dayalso. On Christmas Day four years before they had lost a child. On thisChristmas, God had sent them another to fill the void in their hearts.
CHAPTER XXVI
CONCLUSION
It was a strange thing for the homeless fiddler to find himself theobject of affectionate care and solicitude--to feel, when he woke up inthe morning, no anxiety about the day's success. He could not have founda better home. Naturally attractive, and without serious faults, Philsoon won his way to the hearts of the good doctor and his wife. Thehouse seemed brighter for his presence, and the void in the heart of thebereaved mother was partially filled. Her lost Walter would have been ofthe same age as Phil, had he lived. For his sake she determined to treatthe boy, who seemed cast by Providence upon her protection, as a son.
To begin with, Phil was carried to the village tailor, where an amplewardrobe was ordered for him. His old clothes were not cast aside, butkept in remembrance of his appearance at the time he came to them. Itwas a novel sensation for Phil, when, in his new suit, with a satchel ofbooks in his hand, he set out for the town school. It is needless to saythat his education was very defective, but he was far from deficient innatural ability, and the progress he made was so rapid that in a year hewas on equal footing with the average of boys at his age. He was able atthat time to speak English as fluently as his companions, and, but forhis dark eyes, and clear brown complexion, he might have been mistakenfor an American boy.
His popularity with his schoolfellows was instant and decided. His goodhumor and lively disposition might readily account for that, even if hisposition as the adopted son of a prominent citizen had no effect. But itwas understood that the doctor, who had no near relatives, intended totreat Phil in all respects as a son, even to leaving him his heir.
It may be asked whether the padrone gave up all efforts to recover theyoung fiddler. He was too vindictive for this. Boys had run away fromhim before, but none had subjected him to such ignominious failure inthe effort for their recovery. It would have fared ill with our younghero if he had fallen again into the hands of his unscrupulous enemy.But the padrone was not destined to recover him. Day after day Pietroexplored the neighboring towns, but all to no purpose. He only visitedthe principal towns, while Phil was in a small town, not likely toattract the attention of his pursuers.
A week after his signal failure in Newark, the padrone inserted anadvertisement in the New York Herald, offering a reward of twenty-fivedollars for the recovery of Phil. But our hero was at that timewandering about the country, and the advertisement did not fall underthe eyes of those with whom he came in contact. At length the padronewas compelled to own himself baffled and give up the search. He was notwithout hopes, however, that sometime Phil would turn up. He did hear ofhim again through Pietro, but not in a way to bring him any nearer hisrecovery.
This is the way it happened:
One Saturday morning in March, about three months after Phil had found ahome, the doctor said to him: "Phil, I am going to New York this morningon a little business; would you like to come with me?"
Phil's eyes brightened. Though he was happy in his village home, he hadlonged at times to find himself in the city streets with which his oldvagabond life had rendered him so familiar.
"I should like it very much," he answered, eagerly.
"Then run upstairs and get ready. I shall start in fifteen minutes."
Phil started, and then turned back.
"I might meet Pietro, or the padrone," he said, hesitating.
"No matter if you do, I shall be with you. If they attempt to recoveryou, I will summon the police."
The doctor spoke so confidently that Phil dismissed his momentary fear.Two hours later they set foot in New York.
"Now, Phil," said the doctor, "my business will not take long. Afterthat, if there are any friends you would like to see, I will go with youand find them."
"I should like to see Paul Hoffman," said Phil. "I owe him two dollarsand a half for the fiddle."
"He shall be paid," said the doctor. "He shall lose nothing by trustingyou."
An hour afterward, while walking with the doctor in a side street,Phil's attention was attracted by the notes of a hand-organ. Turning inthe direction from which they came, he met the glance of his old enemy,Pietro.
"It is Pietro," he said, quickly, touching the arm of his companion.
Pietro had not been certain till then that it was Phil. It looked likehim, to be sure, but his new clothing and general appearance made sucha difference between him and the Phil of former days that he wouldhave supposed it only an accidental resemblance. But Phil's evidentrecognition of him convinced him of his identity. He instantly ceasedplaying, and, with eager exultation, advanced to capture him. Phil wouldhave been alarmed but for his confidence in the doctor's protection.
"I have got you at last, scelerato," said Pietro, roughly, grasping Philby the shoulder with a hostile glance.
The doctor instantly seized him by the collar, and hurled him back.
"What do you mean by assaulting my son?" he demanded, coolly.
Pietro was rather astonished at this unexpected attack.
"He is my brother," he said. "He must go back with me."
"He is not your brother. If you touch him again, I will hand you to thepolice."
"He ran away from my uncle," said Pietro.
<
br /> "Your uncle should have treated him better."
"He stole a fiddle," said Pietro, doggedly.
"He had paid for it over and over again," said the doctor. "Phil, comealong. We have no further business with this young man."
They walked on, but Pietro followed at a little distance. Seeing this,Dr. Drayton turned back.
"Young man," he said, "do you see that policeman across the street?"
"Si, signore," answered Pietro.
"Then I advise you to go in a different direction, or I shall requesthim to follow you."
Pietro's sallow face was pale with rage. He felt angry enough to tearPhil to pieces, but his rage was unavailing. He had a wholesome fearof the police, and the doctor's threat was effectual. He turnedaway, though with reluctance, and Phil breathed more freely. Pietrocommunicated his information to the padrone, and the latter, findingthat Phil had found a powerful protector, saw that it would be dangerousfor him to carry the matter any further, and sensibly resolved to giveup the chase.
Of the padrone I have only further to say that some months later he gotinto trouble. In a low drinking saloon an altercation arose between himand another ruffian one evening, when the padrone, in his rage, drew aknife, and stabbed his adversary. He was arrested and is now serving outhis sentence in Sing Sing.
Pietro, by arrangement with him, took his place, stipulating to payhim a certain annual sum. But he has taken advantage of his uncle'sincarceration to defraud him, and after the first payment neglected tomake any returns. It may readily be imagined that this imbitters thepadrone's imprisonment. Knowing what I do of his fierce temper, I shouldnot be surprised to hear of a murderous encounter between him and hisnephew after his release from imprisonment, unless, as is probable, justbefore the release, Pietro should flee the country with the ill-gottengains he may have acquired during his term of office. Meanwhile the boysare treated with scarcely less rigor by him than by his uncle, and toilearly and late, suffering hardships and privations, that Pietro may growrich.
Paul Hoffman had often thought of Phil, and how he had fared. He wasindeed surprised and pleased when the young fiddler walked up and calledhim by name.
"Phil," he exclaimed, grasping his hand heartily, "I am very glad to seeyou. Have you made a fortune?"
"He has found a father," said Dr. Drayton, speaking for Phil, "who wantsto thank you for your past kindness to his son."
"It was nothing," said Paul, modestly.
"It was a great deal to Phil, for, except your family, he had nofriends."
To this Paul made a suitable reply, and gave Phil and his new fatheran earnest invitation to dine with him. This the doctor declined, butagreed to call at the rooms of Mrs. Hoffman, if Paul would agree to comeand pass the next Sunday with Phil as his visitor. Paul accepted theinvitation with pleasure, and it is needless to say that he received ahearty welcome and agreed, in the approaching summer, to make anothervisit.
And now we bid farewell to Phil, the young, street musician. If hislife henceforth shall be less crowded with adventures, and so lessinteresting, it is because he has been fortunate in securing a goodhome. Some years hence the Doctor promises to give himself a vacation,and take Phil with him to Europe, where he will seek out his Italianhome, and the mother with whom he has already opened communicationby letter. So we leave Phil in good hands, and with the prospect of aprosperous career. But there are hundreds of young street musicianswho have not met with his good fortune, but are compelled, by hardnecessity, to submit to the same privations and hardships from which heis happily relieved. May a brighter day dawn for them also!
I hope my readers feel an interest in Paul Hoffman, the young streetmerchant, who proved so efficient a friend to our young hero. Hisearlier adventures are chronicled in "Paul, the Peddler." His laterhistory will be chronicled in the next volume of this series, which willbe entitled "Slow and Sure; or From the Sidewalk to the Shop."
THE END
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