He crossed the Park and Broadway, and kept along on the west side of the street until he reached the necktie stand kept by Paul. The young street merchant did not at first see him, being occupied with a customer, to whom he finally succeeded in selling two neckties; then looking up, he recognized the young fiddler.
“How are you, Phil?” he said, in a friendly manner. “Where have you kept yourself? I have not seen you for a long time.”
“I have been fiddling,” said Phil.
“But I don’t see your violin now. What has become of it?”
“It is broken—destroyed,” said Phil.
“How did that happen?”
Phil described the manner in which his violin had been stolen.
“Do you know who stole it?”
“It was that boy who tried to take it once in the Park.”
“When I stopped him?”