Philip took another walk in the afternoon, and was rather amused to see how much attention he received. When he drew near the hotel he was stared at by several gaping youngsters, who apparently were stationed there for no other purpose. He overheard their whispers:
“That’s him! That’s Philip de Gray, the wonderful fiddler!”
“I never suspected, when I lived at Norton, that I was so much of a curiosity,” he said to himself. “I wish I knew what they’ll say about me to-morrow.”
At six o’clock Morris Lovett called and received his ticket.
“You’ll have a big house to-night, Philip,” he said. “I know a lot of fellows that are going.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Philip, well pleased, for he concluded that if such were the case his purse would be considerably heavier the next day.
“It’s strange how quick you’ve come up;” said Morris. “I never expected you’d be so famous.”
“Nor I,” said Philip, laughing.
“I’d give anything if I could have my name posted round like yours.”
“Perhaps you will have, some time.”