"Yes," sighed 'Rill Drugg. "He was rather shiftless. Perhaps it is the nature of artists so to be," she added reflectively. "For he was really a fine musician. Had Hopewell had a chance he might have been his equal. I often think so," said the storekeeper's bride proudly.
"I know that the elder Mr. Drugg taught the violin."
"Yes. And he used to travel about over the country, giving lessons and playing in orchestras. That used to make Mrs. Drugg awfully angry. She wanted him to be a storekeeper. She made Hopewell be one. How she ever came to marry such a man as Hopewell's father, I do not see."
"She must have loved him," said Janice wistfully.
"Of course!" cried the bride, quite as innocently. "She couldn't have married him otherwise."
"And was Hopewell their only child?"
"Yes. He seldom saw his father, but he fairly worshiped him. His
father was a handsome man—and he used to play his violin for Hopewell.
It was this very instrument my husband prizes so greatly now. When Mr.
Drugg died the violin was hid away for years in the garret.
"You've heard how Hopewell found it, and strung it himself, and used to play on it slyly, and so taught himself to be a fiddler, before his mother had any idea he knew one note from another. She was extremely deaf at the last and could not hear him playing at odd times, up in the attic."
"My!" said Janice, "he must have really loved music."
"It was his only comfort," said the wife softly. "When he was twenty-one what little property his father had left came to him. But his mother did not put the violin into the inventory; so Hopewell said: 'Give me the fiddle and you can have the rest.'"