d house; it had become a
home to him now. He liked Miss Husted, too, though she made him the
repository for all her troubles, and then there were Fico, and Pinac
and Jenny--he really loved Jenny. His little world was all in Houston
Street and he made up his mind not to leave it, even if the location
made the getting of pupils harder. Besides he felt that he was not a
fashionable teacher; he could teach only those who learned music
because they loved it and not because they wanted to be accomplished.

Von Barwig did not speak to his friends of all this; his pride would
not allow him to discuss his personal affairs with them. Besides
neither Pinac nor Fico could throw much light on the pupil question,
for though they were musicians, yes, for they played, they did not
teach. Pinac did not even know until Von Barwig showed him how to hold
his violin properly he used to grab it with his whole hand instead of
by his finger and thumb; and as for Fico, he could not read music until
Von Barwig taught him, but played the mandolin, guitar and piano by
ear. These men were not only grateful to Von Barwig for his kindness,
but they loved him, and recognising in him the real artist had
unbounded respect for him. As for Von Barwig, he found them simple
fellows, sentimental, unpretentious and good-hearted, and he liked them
and felt at ease with them because they did not seek to probe into that
part of his life which he preferred should remain unknown to them.
They merely accepted him as they found him and for this Von Barwig was
grateful. As time went on, Von Barwig found himself badly in need of
ready money. One day when Miss Husted came for her rent, he hesitated
before he paid her; he had forgotten it was rent day and was
unprepared. The poor lady was kindness itself, but her kindness
embarrassed Von Barwig extremely, for he had never been in a position
in his life where he actually needed cash for his daily wants.

"Leave it a week, a month, a year, my dear professor!" said Miss
Husted, and she implored him not to pay her if it afforded him the
slightest inconvenience.

"I go to the bank--if you come in an hour I will have it for you," said
poor Von Barwig, quite overcome. He did not know what it was to be
"behind," and the experience was painful to him.

This was the beginning of the end, and the valuable Amati violin soon
went for eight hundred dollars, one-fourth its value, to a scoundrelly
violin maker and dealer