hear beautiful music like the organ in church, only
more--bigger--better?"

"I suppose so.".

"And know people--dear people--who will understand what I say when I
play?"

Simeon Holly's face paled a little; still, he knew David had not meant
to make it so hard.

"Yes."

"Why, it's my 'start'--just what I was going to have with the
gold-pieces," cried David joyously. Then, uttering a sharp cry of
consternation, he clapped his fingers to his lips.

"Your--what?" asked the man.

"N--nothing, really, Mr. Holly,--Uncle Simeon,--n--nothing."

Something, either the boy's agitation, or the luckless mention of the
gold-pieces sent a sudden dismayed suspicion into Simeon Holly's eyes.

"Your 'start'?--the 'gold-pieces'? David, what do you mean?"

David shook his head. He did not intend to tell. But gently,
persistently, Simeon Holly questioned until the whole piteous little
tale lay bare before him: the hopes, the house of dreams, the sacrifice.

David saw then what it means when a strong man is shaken by an emotion
that has mastered him; and the sight awed and frightened the boy.

"Mr. Holly, is it because I'm--going--that you care--so much? I never
thought--or supposed--you'd--CARE," he faltered.

There was no answer. Simeon Holly's eyes were turned quite away.

"Uncle Simeon--PLEASE! I--I think I don't want to go, anyway. I--I'm
sure I don't want to go--and leave YOU!"

Simeon Holly turned then, and spoke.

"Go? Of course you'll go, David. Do you think I'd tie you here to
me--NOW?" he choked. "What don't I owe to you--home, son, happiness!
Go?--of course you'll go. I wonder if you really think I'd let you
stay! Come, we'll go down to mother and tell her. I suspect she'll want
to start in to-night to get your socks all mended up!" And with head
erect and a determined step, Simeon Holly faced the mighty sacrifice in
his turn, and led the way downstairs.

* * * * *

The friends, the relatives, the adoring public, the mint of money--they
are all David's now. But once each year, man grown though he is, he
picks up his violin and journeys to a little village far up among the
hills. There in a quiet kitchen he plays to an old man and an old
woman; and always to himself he says that he is practicing against the
time when, his violin at his chin and the bow drawn across the strings,
he shall go to meet his father in the far-away land, and tell him of
the beautiful world he has left.