“Do you think you could eat some breakfast?” asked Dr. Drayton, with a smile.
“Yes, sir,” said Phil.
“Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some as soon as you are dressed. But I see from your looks you want to know where you are and how you came here. Don’t you remember the snow-storm yesterday?”
Phil shuddered. He remembered it only too well.
“I found you lying by the side of the road about half-past eight in the evening. I suppose you don’t remember my picking you up?”
“No, sir.”
“You were insensible. I was afraid at first you were frozen. But I brought you home, and, thanks to Providence, you are all right again.”
“Where is my fiddle?” asked Phil, anxiously.
“It is safe. There it is on the piano.”
Phil was relieved to see that his faithful companion was safe. He looked upon it as his stock in trade, for without it he would not have known how to make his livelihood.