There were two houses in sight, one on each side of the road.
Probably they would have given Philip a supper at either, but our hero’s honest pride revolted at the idea of begging for a meal, much as he stood in need of it. He might as well be a pauper, as he justly reflected. So he pushed on.
Evidently he was drawing near a village, for houses began to appear at nearer intervals.
“Hello, my boy! Where are you traveling!” asked a hearty voice.
Philip turned round, and his glance rested on a stout young farmer, whose face, though very much sunburned, was pleasant and good-natured.
“I don’t know,” answered Philip.
“Don’t know?” was repeated in surprise.
“I am in search of work.”
“Oh, that’s it! Are you a musician?” asked the young man, looking at the violin.
“Yes; a little of one.”