rabian Nights," and "Grimm's Fairy Tales." There were
more, many more, and David devoured them all with eager eyes. The good
in them he absorbed as he absorbed the sunshine; the evil he cast aside
unconsciously--it rolled off, indeed, like the proverbial water from
the duck's back.

David hardly knew sometimes which he liked the better, his imaginative
adventures between the covers of his books or his real adventures in
his daily strolls. True, it was not his mountain home--this place in
which he found himself; neither was there anywhere his Silver Lake with
its far, far-reaching sky above. More deplorable yet, nowhere was there
the dear father he loved so well. But the sun still set in rose and
gold, and the sky, though small, still carried the snowy sails of its
cloud-boats; while as to his father--his father had told him not to
grieve, and David was trying very hard to obey.

With his violin for company David started out each day, unless he
elected to stay indoors with his books. Sometimes it was toward the
village that he turned his steps; sometimes it was toward the hills
back of the town. Whichever way it was, there was always sure to be
something waiting at the end for him and his violin to discover, if it
was nothing more than a big white rose in bloom, or a squirrel sitting
by the roadside.

Very soon, however, David discovered that there was something to be
found in his wanderings besides squirrels and roses; and that
was--people. In spite of the strangeness of these people, they were
wonderfully interesting, David thought. And after that he turned his
steps more and more frequently toward the village when four o'clock
released him from the day's work.

At first David did not talk much to these people. He shrank sensitively
from their bold stares and unpleasantly audible comments. He watched
them with round eyes of wonder and interest, however,--when he did not
think they were watching him. And in time he came to know not a little
about them and about the strange ways in which they passed their time.

There was the greenhouse man. It would be pleasant to spend one's day
growing plants and flowers--but not under that hot, stifling glass
roof, decided David. Besides, he would not want always to pick and send
away the very prettiest ones to the city every morning, as the
greenhouse man did.

There was the doctor who rode all day long behind the gray mare, making
sick folks well. David liked him, and mental