way, but very little, as people in general regarded this "tinkering"
as a pleasing diversion in which they could indulge him without
danger. As an example of this attitude, Dr. Berry's wife's melodeon
had lost two stops, the pedals had severed connection with the rest
of the works, it wheezed like an asthmatic, and two black keys were
missing. Anthony worked more than a week on its rehabilitation, and
received in return Mrs. Berry's promise that the doctor would "pull a
tooth" for him some time! This, of course, was a guerdon for the
future, but it seemed pathetically distant to the lad who had never
had a toothache in his life. He had to plead with Cyse Higgins for a
week before that prudent young farmer would allow him to touch his
five-dollar fiddle. He obtained permission at last only by offering
to give Cyse his calf in case he spoiled the violin. "That seems
square," said Cyse doubtfully, "but after all, you can't play on a
calf!" "Neither will your fiddle give milk, if you keep it long
enough," retorted Tony; and this argument was convincing.

So great was his confidence in Tony's skill that Squire Bean trusted
his father's violin to him, one that had been bought in Berlin
seventy years before. It had been hanging on the attic wall for a
half-century, so that the back was split in twain, the sound-post
lost, the neck and the tailpiece cracked. The lad took it home, and
studied it for two whole evenings before the open fire. The problem
of restoring it was quite beyond his abilities. He finally took the
savings of two summers' "blueberry money" and walked sixteen miles to
the nearest town, where he bought a book called "The Practical
Violinist." The supplement proved to be a mine of wealth. Even the
headings appealed to his imagination and intoxicated him with their
suggestions--On Scraping, Splitting, and Repairing Violins, Violin
Players, Great Violinists, Solo Playing, &c.; and at the very end a