Adjusting his glasses, Squire Pope directed a glance at the stage. Heinstantly recognized Philip, and his surprise was boundless. He gave asudden start.
"By gracious, I couldn't have believed it!" he ejaculated.
"Couldn't have believed what, brother?" asked Mrs. Cunningham.
"I know that boy!" he said, in a tone of excitement.
"You know him, uncle?" said Carrie, delighted. "Then you must introduceme to him. I want to meet him ever so much. Where did you ever see him?"
"Where did I see him? I'm his guardian. He ran away from me a littlemore than a week since, and I never knew where he went."
"You the guardian of the wonderful boy-player?" said Carrie, astonished."Isn't it strange?"
"His father died a short time since and left him in my care," said thesquire, not scrupling to make a misstatement. "But I'll tell you moreabout it when the performance is over."
When Philip first saw Squire Pope entering the hall it disconcerted him,but he reflected that the squire really had no authority over him, andconsequently he had nothing to fear from him.
Should his pretended guardian make any effort to recover him, he wasresolved to make a desperate resistance, and even, if necessary, toinvoke the help of the law.
Meanwhile, his pride stimulated him to play his best, and the heartyapplause of the audience when he had finished his piece encouraged him.
As he was bowing his thanks he could not help directing a triumphantglance at Squire Pope, who was carefully scrutinizing him through hisgold-bowed spectacles.
He was glad that the squire had a chance to see for himself that he waswell able to make his own way, with the help of the violin of which theNorton official had attempted to deprive him.
In truth, Squire Pope, who knew little of Philip's playing, except thathe did play, was amazed to find him so proficient. Instead, however, ofconcluding that a boy so gifted was abundantly able to "paddle his owncanoe," as the saying is, he was the more resolved to carry him back toNorton, and to take into his own care any the boy might have earned. Inthe middle of the entertainment was a recess of ten minutes, which mostof the audience spent in conversation.
Miss Carrie began again to speak of Philip.
"Oh,--uncle," she said, "I'm so glad you know that lovely boy-player! Heis earning lots of money."
"Is he!" asked the squire, pricking up his ears. "Who told you so?"
"One of the young men that belongs to the club told me they were to payhim ten dollars for playing to-night."
"Ten dollars!" ejaculated the squire, in amazement. "I don't believe it!It's ridiculous!"
"Oh, yes, it is true!" said Mrs. Cunningham. "John Turner told Carrie;and he is secretary, and ought to know."
"That isn't all," continued Carrie. "Mr. Turner says it is very kind ofMr. Gray--"
"Mr. Gray!" repeated the squire, amused.
"Well, Philip, then. I suppose you call him Philip, as you are hisguardian."
"Well, what were you going to say?"
"Mr. Turner says that it is very kind of Philip to play for so little,for he made a good deal more money by his entertainment in Wilkesville."
"Did he give a concert in Wilkesville?" asked the squire quickly.
"Yes, he and the professor. He was liked very much there."
"And you heard that he made a good deal of money there?"
"Yes; lots of it."
"Then," thought the squire, "he must have considerable money with him.As his guardian I ought to have the care of it. He's a boy, and isn'tfit to have the charge of money. It's very lucky I came here just as Idid. It's my duty, as his guardian, to look after him."
The squire determined to seek an interview with our hero as soon as theentertainment was over.
CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PRETENDED GUARDIAN.
Philip played with excellent effect, and his efforts were received withas much favor at Knoxville as at Wilkesville. He was twice encored, andat the end of each of his selections he was greeted with applause.
As for Professor Riccabocca, people hardly knew what to make of him.He was as eccentric and extravagant as ever, and his recitations werereceived with good-natured amusement. He didn't lack for applause,however. There were some boys on the front seats who applauded him,just for the fun of it. Though the applause was ironical, the professorpersuaded himself that it was genuine, and posed before the audience ateach outburst, with his hand on his heart, and his head bent so far overthat he seemed likely to lose his balance.
"We are making a grand success, Mr. Gray," he said, during the intervalof ten minutes already referred to. "Did you notice how they applaudedme?"
"Yes," answered Philip, with a smile.
"They evidently appreciate true genius. It reminds me of the ovationthey gave me at Cincinnati last winter."
"Does it?" asked Philip, still smiling.
"Yes. I was a great favorite in that intellectual city. By the way, Inoticed that they seemed well pleased with your playing also."
This he said carelessly, as if Philip's applause was not to be comparedto his.
"Yes, they treat me very kindly," answered Philip.
"You are fortunate in having me to introduce you to the public," saidthe professor emphatically. "The name of Riccabocca is so well known,that it is of great advantage to you."
The professor deluded himself with the idea that he was a greatelocutionist, and that the public rated him as highly as he did himself.When anything occurred that did not seem to favor this view, he closedhis eyes to it, preferring to believe that he was a popular favorite.
"I hope I shall never be so deceived about myself," thought Philip.
When the entertainment was over, Mr. Caswell, president of the club,came up to Philip and said cordially:
"Mr. Gray, we are very much indebted to you. Thanks to you, we are outof debt, and shall have a balance of from twelve to fifteen dollars inthe treasury."
"I am very glad of it," said Philip.
"So am I," said the professor, pushing forward, jealous lest Philipshould get more than his share of credit.
"And we are indebted to you also, Professor Riccabocca," said thepresident, taking the hint.
"You are entirely welcome, sir," said Riccabocca loftily. "My help hasoften been asked in behalf of charitable organizations. I remember once,in Philadelphia, I alone raised five hundred dollars for a--a--I thinkit was a hospital."
This was an invention, but Professor Riccabocca had no scruple ingetting up little fictions which he thought likely to redound to hiscredit and increase his reputation.
"Doubtless you are often called upon also, Mr. Gray," suggested Mr.Caswell with a smile.
"No," answered Philip. "This is the first time that I have ever had theopportunity."
"There's no humbug about the boy," thought Mr. Caswell. "As for theprofessor, he is full of it."
"I have pleasure in handing you the price agreed upon," said thepresident, presenting each with a ten-dollar bill.
"Thank you," said Philip.
Professor Riccabocca carelessly tucked the bill into his vest pocket, asif it were a mere trifle.
At this moment, Mr. Turner came up with all the other gentleman. "Mr.Gray," he said, "here is a gentleman who wishes to speak to you."
Philip looked up, and saw the well-known figure of Squire Pope.
CHAPTER XXXVII. HIS OWN MASTER.
"Ahem, Philip," said the squire. "I should like a little conversationwith you."
"Good evening, Squire Pope," said our hero, not pretending to becordial, but with suitable politeness.
"I didn't expect to see you here," pursued the squire.
"Nor I you, sir."
"I am visiting my sister, Mrs. Cunningham, who lives in Knoxville. Willyou come around with me, and make a call?"
Now, considering the treatment which Philip had received from the squirebefore he left Norton, the reader can hardly feel surprised that ourhero didn't care to trust himself with his unscrupulous fellow townsman.
&nbs
p; "Thank you, Squire Pope," said Philip, "but it is rather late for me tocall at a private house. I am staying at the hotel, and if you willtake the trouble to go around there with me, we will have a chance toconverse."
"Very well," said the squire, hesitating. Just then up came his niece,Carrie, who was determined to get acquainted with Philip.
"Uncle," she said, "introduce me to Mr. Gray."
"This is my niece, Caroline Cunningham," said the squire stiffly.
"I am glad to meet Miss Cunningham," said Philip, extending his hand,with a smile.
"What a lovely player you are, Mr. Gray!" she said impulsively.
"I am afraid you are flattering me, Miss Cunningham."
"Don't call me Miss Cunningham. My name is Carrie."
"Miss Carrie, then."
"I was ever so much surprised to hear that uncle was your guardian."
Philip looked quickly at the squire, but did not contradict it. He onlysaid:
"We used to live in the same town."
During this conversation Squire Pope looked embarrassed and impatient.
"It's getting late, Carrie," he said. "You had better go home."
"Aren't you coming, too, uncle?"
"I am going to the hotel to settle some business with Philip."
"What business, I wonder?" thought our hero.
Arrived at the hotel, they went up-stairs to Philip's chamber. "You leftNorton very abruptly, Philip," commenced the squire.
"There was good reason for it," answered Philip significantly.
"It appears to me you are acting as if you were your own master,"observed the squire.
"I am my own master," replied Philip firmly.
"You seem to forget that I am your guardian."
"I don't forget it, for I never knew it," said our hero.
"It is generally understood that such is the case."
"I can't help it. I don't need a guardian, and shall get along withoutone."
"Ahem! Perhaps that isn't to be decided by you."
"If I am to have a guardian, Squire Pope," said Philip bluntly, "Isha'n't select you. I shall select Mr. Dunbar."
"I have much more knowledge of business than Mr. Dunbar," said thesquire, shifting his ground.
"That may be, but there is one important objection."
"What is that?"
"You are not my friend, and Mr. Dunbar is."
"Really this is very extraordinary!" ejaculated the squire. "I am notyour friend? How do you know that?"
"You tried to make a pauper out of me, when, as you must perceive, I amentirely able to earn my own living."
"Is it true that you were paid ten dollars for playing this evening?"asked the squire curiously.
"Yes, sir."
"It beats all!" said the squire, in amazement.
"Yet you wanted to sell my violin for a good deal less than I haveearned in one evening," said Philip, enjoying his enemy's surprise.
"You gave an entertainment at Wilkesville also, I hear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you make as much there?"
"I made between sixty and seventy dollars over and above expenses."
"You don't expect me to believe that!" said the squire.
"I don't care whether you believe it or not; it's true."
"Have you got the money with you?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd better give it to me to keep for you."
"Thank you; I feel capable of taking care of it myself."
"But it's improper for a boy of your age to carry round so much money,"said the squire sharply.
"If I need help to take care of it, I will ask Mr. Dunbar."
"Come, Philip," said the squire, condescending to assume a persuasivemanner, "you must remember that I am your guardian."
"I dispute that," said Philip.
"I won't insist upon your going back with me to Norton, as long as youare able to support yourself."
"Then you wouldn't advise me to go back to the poorhouse," said Philip,with some sarcasm in his voice.
"I didn't mean to have you stay there long," said the squire, ratherconfused. "You'd better give me most of your money, and I'll take careof it for you, and when you're twenty-one you'll have quite a littlesum."
"I am much obliged to you, sir, but I won't put you to the trouble oftaking care of my money," answered Philip coldly.
Squire Pope continued to argue with Philip, but made no impression. Atlength he was obliged to say good night.
"I will call round in the morning," he said, at parting. "Perhaps you'lllisten to reason then."
When he called round in the morning he learned to his disappointmentthat Philip was gone.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. AN OFFER DECLINED.
After his interview with Squire Pope, Philip came down to the office,where he saw Professor Riccabocca, apparently waiting for him.
"Well, Mr. Gray, where shall we go next?" asked the professor, withsuavity.
"I haven't decided where to go--have you?" asked Philip coolly.
"I suppose we had better go to Raymond. That is a good-sized place. Ithink we can get together a good audience there."
"You seem to be under the impression that we are in partnership," saidPhilip.
"Of course," answered Riccabocca.
"I have made no agreement of that sort, professor."
"But, of course, it is understood," said Riccabocca quickly, "as long aswe draw so well."
"You must excuse me, Professor Riccabocca. I must decline the proposal."
"But why?" inquired the professor anxiously.
"I hope you won't press me for an explanation."
"But I do. I can't understand why you should act so against your owninterest. You can't expect people will come just to hear you play. Youneed me to help you."
"It may be as you say, professor, but if you insist upon my speakingplainly, I don't care to travel with a man who has treated me as youhave."
"I don't understand you," said Riccabocca nervously; but it was evident,from his expression, that he did.
"Then you seem very forgetful," said Philip. "You tried to deprive me ofmy share of the proceeds of the entertainment at Wilkesville, and wouldhave succeeded but for a lucky accident."
"I told you that it was all owing to neuralgia," said ProfessorRiccabocca. "I had such an attack of neuralgic headache that it nearlydrove me wild."
"Then," said Philip, "I would rather find a partner who is not troubledwith neuralgic headache. I think it would be safer."
"It won't happen again, Mr. Gray, I assure you," said the professorapologetically.
He endeavored to persuade Philip to renew the combination, but ourhero steadily refused. He admitted that it might be to his pecuniaryadvantage, but he had lost all confidence in the eminent professor, andhe thought it better to part now than to give him another opportunity ofplaying a similar trick upon him.
The professor thereupon consulted the landlord as to whether it would beadvisable for him to give another entertainment unaided, and was assuredvery emphatically that it would not pay expenses.
"You make a great mistake, Mr. Gray," said Riccabocca. "It would bea great advantage for you to have my assistance at this stage of yourprofessional career."
"I don't expect to have any professional career," answered Philip.
"Don't you intend to become a professional musician?" asked theprofessor, surprised.
"Probably not. I have only been playing because I needed money, and myviolin helped me to a living."
"You can't make as much money in any other way."
"Not at present; but I want to get a chance to enter upon some kind ofbusiness. I am going to New York."
"You will some time have a chance to hear me there, in the Academy ofMusic," said Riccabocca pompously.
"I will go and hear you," said Philip, laughing, "if I can afford aticket."
"Say the word and we will appear there together, Mr. Gray."
"I think not, professor."
In fact, though Philip had found himself unexpectedly successful as amusician, he knew very well that he was only a clever amateur, and thatyears of study would be needed to make him distinguished.
He was glad that he had the means of paying his expenses for aconsiderable time, and had in his violin a trusty friend upon whichhe could rely in case he got into financial trouble. Directly afterbreakfast he set out on his journey.
CHAPTER XXXIX. AN AMBITIOUS WAYFARER.
The large sums which Philip had received for his playing might havedazzled a less sensible boy. He was quite conscious that he playedunusually well for a boy, but when it came to selecting music asa profession, he felt it would not be wise to come to too hasty adecision. To be a commonplace performer did not seem to him verydesirable, and would not have satisfied his ambition.
He had told Professor Riccabocca that he intended to go to New York.This design had not been hastily formed. He had heard a great deal ofthe great city in his home in the western part of the State of whichit was the metropolis, and he was desirous of seeing it. Perhaps theremight be some opening for him in its multitude of business houses.
Philip had plenty of money, and could easily have bought a railroadticket, which would have landed him in New York inside of twenty-fourhours, for he was only about four hundred miles distant; but he was inno hurry, and rather enjoyed traveling leisurely through the countrytowns, with his violin in his hand.
The Young Musician; Or, Fighting His Way Page 15
