Phil, the Fiddler

Phil, in response to this request, played and sang “Shoo Fly!” which suiting the boys’ taste, he was called upon to repeat.

The song being finished, Edward Eustis took off his cap, and went around the circle.

“Now, boys, you have a chance to show your liberality,” he said. “I’ll start the collection with five cents.”

“That’s ahead of me,” said James Marcus. “Justice to a large and expensive family will prevent me contributing anything more than two cents.”

“The smallest favors thankfully received,” said Edward.

“Then take that, and be thankful,” said Tom Lane, dropping in a penny.

“I haven’t got any money,” said Frank Gaylord, “but here’s an apple;” and he dropped a large red apple into the cap.

Phil; watching with interest the various contributions, was best pleased with the last. The money he must carry to the padrone. The apple he might keep for himself, and it would vary agreeably his usual meager fare.

“The biggest contribution yet,” said Edward.

“Here, Sprague, you are liberal. What’ll you give?”

“My note at ninety days.”

“You might fail before it comes due.”

“Then take three cents. ‘Tis all I have; ‘I can no more, though poor the offering be.’”

“Oh, don’t quote Shakespeare.”

“It isn’t Shakespeare; it’s Milton.”

“Just as much one as the other.”

“Here, Johnny,” said Edward, after going the rounds, “hold your hands, and I’ll pour out the money. You can retire from business now on a fortune.”

Phil was accustomed to be addressed as Johnny, that being the generic name for boy in New York. He deposited the money in his pocket, and, taking his fiddle, played once more in acknowledgment of the donation. The boys now dispersed, leaving Phil to go on his way. He took out the apple with the intention of eating it, when a rude boy snatched it from his hand.

“Give it back,” said Phil, angrily.

“Don’t you wish you may get it?” said the other, holding it out of his reach.

The young musician had little chance of redress, his antagonist was a head taller than himself, and, besides, he would not have dared lay down his fiddle to fight, lest it might be broken.

“Give it to me,” he said, stamping his foot.

“I mean to eat it myself,” said the other, coolly. “It’s too good for the likes of you.”

“You’re a thief.”

“Don’t you call me names, you little Italian ragamuffin, or I’ll hit you,” said the other, menacingly.

“It is my apple.”

“I’m going to eat it.”

But the speaker was mistaken. As he held the apple above his head, it was suddenly snatched from him. He looked around angrily, and confronted Edward Eustis, who, seeing Phil’s trouble from a little distance, had at once come to his rescue.

“What did you do that for?” demanded the thief.

“What did you take the boy’s apple for?”

“Because I felt like it.”

“Then I took it from you for the same reason.”

“Do you want to fight?” blustered the rowdy.

“Not particularly.”

“Then hand me back that apple,” returned the other.

“Thank you; I shall only hand it to the rightful owner—that little Italian boy. Are you not ashamed to rob him?”

“Do you want to get hit?”

“I wouldn’t advise you to do it.”

The rowdy looked at the boy who confronted him. Edward was slightly smaller, but there was a determined look in his eye which the bully, who, like those of his class generally, was a coward at heart, did not like. He mentally decided that it would be safer not to provoke him.

“Come here, Johnny, and take your apple,” said Edward.

Phil advanced, and received back his property with satisfaction.

“You’d better eat it now. I’ll see that he doesn’t disturb you.”

Phil followed the advice of his new friend promptly. He had eaten nothing since seven o’clock, and then only a piece of dry bread and cheese, and the apple, a rare luxury, he did not fail to relish. His would-be robber scowled at him meanwhile, for he had promised himself the pleasure of dispatching the fruit. Edward stood by till the apple was eaten, and then turned away. The rowdy made a movement as if to follow Phil, but Edward quickly detected him, and came back.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” he said, significantly, “or you’ll have to settle accounts with me. Do you see that policeman? I am going to ask him to have an eye on you. You’d better look out for yourself.”

The other turned at the caution, and seeing the approach of one of the Metropolitan police quickly vanished. He had a wholesome fear of these guardians of the public peace, and did not care to court their attention.

Edward turned away, but in a moment felt a hand tugging at his coat. Looking around, he saw that it was Phil.

“Grazia, signore,” said Phil, gratefully.

“I suppose that means ‘Thank you’?”

Phil nodded.

“All right, Johnny! I am glad I was by to save you from that bully.”