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