Philip had a mind to put it into his pocket, but the spirit of
honesty forbade.

"It must be sold," he said, with a sigh. "Without it there wouldn't
be enough to pay what we owe, and when I leave Norton, I don't want
any one to say that my father died in his debt."

There was nothing else in the desk which called for particular
notice or appeared to be of any special value. After a careful
examination, Philip closed it and looked around at the familiar
furniture of the few rooms which the house contained.

There was one object which he personally valued more than anything
else. This was his violin, on which he had learned all that he knew
of playing. His father had bought it for him four years before. It
was not costly, but it was of good tone, and Philip had passed many
pleasant hours in practicing on it.

"I can take this violin, at any rate," said Philip to himself. "It
belongs to me, and no one else has a claim on it. I think I will
take it with me and leave it at Frank Dunbar's, so that it needn't
get into the sale."

He put back the violin into the case and laid it on one side. Then
he sat down in the arm-chair, which had been his father's favorite
seat, and tried to fix his mind upon the unknown future which lay
before him.

He had sat there for half an hour, revolving in his mind various