At any rate, the faint memory inspired him and, raising his violin, he played a beautiful lullaby.
Before he had finished the old woman leaned over and dropped something into his little tin cup.
It sounded as loud as a silver dollar would have sounded.
"The dear old generous soul!" the old man thought as he continued playing.
He played for hours, but the old woman was the only one who stopped. "I will at least have enough to get Cynthia some warm food!" he said, thinking of what the old lady had dropped into his tin cup.
But when he looked, what was his dismay to see only a large iron ring!
Again he climbed the stairs to the attic but he felt too weary to say a thing and his sister knew that he had met with disappointment. He tossed the iron ring to her lap and went over to the bed and threw himself upon it.
"This is the end!" he said, and told her about the iron ring.
"The old woman seemed interested in my playing!" he said, "And perhaps she gave all she could give!"
"Let us not be downhearted, Brother!" said the sister. "Surely tomorrow you will find someone who will reward your talent!"