and the delight of the
people at home over his good fortune, but he soon slipped away to bed,
exhausted with the evening's events. His mother, coming into the room
later to say good-night, saw that close to his bed, on a table where he
could reach out and touch it during the night, lay his violin.

"Motherette," he smiled happily, "I feel that it is consecrated."

"Keep it so, little lad of mine. Keep both your music and your violin
consecrated."

* * * * * * * *

Never had Archie played so well, for all his shyness and nervousness. He
seemed to gather something of the great man's soul as he played before
him at the hotel the following day.

Ventnor became greatly excited. "Boy, boy!" he cried, "you have a great
music in you! You must have study and work, like what is it you
Canadians say?--like Sam Hill!"

"Yes," said Archie, quietly; "rainy days and east wind days, when I
coughed and could not go to school, I worked, and--well, I just worked."

"Me, I should t'ink you did! Why, boy, I will make you great. I will
teach you all this summer."

"I'm afraid father can't afford that," faltered Archie.

"Me, I tell you I holiday now. I take no money in my holiday. I teach
you because I like you, me," replied the master, irritably.

"But I can never repay you," answered Archie.

"Me, I will give to the world a great musician; it is you! That's repay
enough for me--the satisfaction of making one great violinist. That's
repay."

And so it all came about. Day after day Ventnor taught, trained and
encouraged Archie Anderson. Day after day the boy drew greater music
from the heart of his fiddle. He seemed to stride ahead under the power
of the master; and as for Ventnor, he seemed beside himself with joy at
what he called his "find." They grew to be friends. Archie confided his
great discouragement of ill-health, his inability to attend school.

"Me, I fix all that," answered Ventnor. "Me, I go see to-night your
parents. I talk to them." And he did, but his "talk" amazed even the
boy. He wanted Archie to go with him to California, where his autumn
season began. He wanted to adopt him, to take him away for two years. He
gesticulated, and raised his eyebrows, and talked down every objection
they had.

"I tell you I want him. I make a virtuoso of him. He is _my_ boy. I
discover him. He's good boy; he work, work, work. Never do I see a boy
work like dat. He is in earnest. Dat is de greatest t'ing a boy can