ings I'm wanting--so bad!"

With a little choking breath, David tucked the note back into his
pocket and reached for his violin.

Some time later, Mrs. Holly, dusting the chairs in the parlor, stopped
her work, tiptoed to the door, and listened breathlessly. When she
turned back, still later, to her work, her eyes were wet.

"I wonder why, when he plays, I always get to thinking of--John," she
sighed to herself, as she picked up her dusting-cloth.

After supper that night, Simeon Holly and his wife again sat on the
kitchen porch, resting from the labor of the day. Simeon's eyes were
closed. His wife's were on the dim outlines of the shed, the barn, the
road, or a passing horse and wagon. David, sitting on the steps, was
watching the moon climb higher and higher above the tree-tops. After a
time he slipped into the house and came out with his violin.

At the first long-drawn note of sweetness, Simeon Holly opened his eyes
and sat up, stern-lipped. But his wife laid a timid hand on his arm.

"Don't say anything, please," she entreated softly. "Let him play, just
for to-night. He's lonesome--poor little fellow." And Simeon Holly,
with a frowning shrug of his shoulders, sat back in his chair.

Later, it was Mrs. Holly herself who stopped the music by saying:
"Come, David, it's bedtime for little boys. I'll go upstairs with you."
And she led the way into the house and lighted the candle for him.

Upstairs, in the little room over the kitchen, David found himself once
more alone. As before, the little yellow-white nightshirt lay over the
chair-back; and as before, Mrs. Holly had brushed away a tear as she
had placed it there. As before, too, the big four-posted bed loomed
tall and formidable in the corner. But this time the coverlet and sheet
were turned back invitingly--Mrs. Holly had been much disturbed to find
that David had slept on the floor the night before.

Once more, with his back carefully turned toward the impaled bugs and
moths on the wall, David undressed himself. Then, before blowing out
the candle, he went to the window kneeled down, and looked up at the
moon through the trees.

David was sorely puzzled. He was beginning to wonder just what was to
become of himself.

His father had said that out in the world there was a beautiful work
for him to do; but what was it? How was he to find it? Or how was he to
do it if he did find it? And another thing; where was he to live? Could
he stay where he was? I