“But you said his namesake,” returned Ellen, looking puzzled.
“My legal name is Peter Reed Marshall. Uncle Pete didn’t like the name of Peter, so I dropped it and always have been called Reed.”
“Dear Don Pedro,” murmured Ellen with a faraway look. “How we shall miss him! It was fine for him to remember you in that way. I am glad he did.”
“It was just like him to do it. He has always encouraged me to go on with my studies, even when it was hard sledding and it looked as if I couldn’t make my way. He always came to my rescue, and told me not to sell my soul for Mammon.”
Again Ellen looked puzzled. “But I thought you were very well off. I never dreamed that you had any sort of struggle.”
“What made you think so?”
“Why, the violin. You paid a good price for it, you know, and how could you, if money wasn’t easy to get?”
Reed flushed up. “You’ve caught me, Cronette. I paid for it with the check Uncle Pete gave me for Christmas, and he made up the rest. He wanted me to have it if you couldn’t keep it, said it should not go to a stranger. He knew how I longed for it.”
“Dear, dear Don Pedro,” again sighed Ellen.
“You wanted me to have it, didn’t you, Cronette?”