"There is the half dollar, Rico; it belongs to you. You had better go now, but keep on being attentive to the violin playing. It may be that you can make it amount to something, so that in twelve or fourteen years you can buy a violin for yourself. Good night."
Rico had looked longingly at the violin when he realized that he must go, and he now laid it very tenderly on the table. He was pondering the last words of the teacher, when Stineli came running to meet him.
"How long it did take you!" she exclaimed. "Did you ask him?"
"Yes, but it is all of no use," said Rico with frowning brow. "A violin costs six hundred pennies, and in fourteen years, when everybody will probably be dead, he thought I could perhaps buy one. Who wants to live fourteen years from now? There, you may take that; I don't want it," and he put the half dollar into Stineli's hand.
"Six hundred pennies!" repeated Stineli in amazement. "And how did you get this money?"
Rico told Stineli what had passed between him and the teacher, and again said, "It is of no use."
Stineli urged Rico to keep the money, but he would not take it again.
"Then I will keep it and put it away with the pennies, and it shall belong to us both," she said.