"I guess there are fiddles and fiddles," said 'Rill, a little tartly for her.
"No," laughed Nelson. "There are fiddles and violins. Like the word 'vase.' If it's a cheap one, plain 'vase' is well enough to indicate it; but if it costs over twenty-five dollars they usually call it a 'vahze.' I have always believed Hopewell's instrument deserved the dignity of 'violin.'"
"Wal," declared Walky. "I guess ye kin have all the dignity, and the vi'lin, too, if you offer Joe what he paid for it. I don't b'lieve he'll hang off much for a profit—er—haw! haw! haw!"
"I wish I were wealthy enough to buy the violin back from that fellow," whispered Janice to the schoolmaster.
"Ah! I expect you do, Janice," he said softly, eyeing her with admiration. "And I wish I could give you the money to do so. It would give you more pleasure, I fancy, to hand Hopewell back his violin when he returns from Boston than almost anything we could name. Wouldn't it?"
"Oh, dear me! yes, Nelson," she sighed. "I just wish I were rich."
Just about this time there were a number of things Janice desired money for. She had a little left in the bank at Middletown; but she dared not use it for anything but actual necessities. No telling when daddy could send her any more for her own private use. Perhaps, never.
The papers gave little news of Mexican troubles just now. Of course, Juan Dicampa being dead, there was no use watching the news columns for his name.
And daddy was utterly buried from her! She had no means of informing herself whether he were alive or dead. She wrote to him faithfully at least once each week; but she did not know whether the letters reached him or not.
As previously advised, she addressed the outer envelope for her father's letters in care of Juan Dicampa. But that seemed a hollow mockery now. She was sending the letters to a dead man.