"The ones here I thoroughly cleaned at the time, as I knew they would come in handy for particular purposes, but I had no idea of this kind in view at the time. We must soak them and remove the inner and outer lining. Potash, in solution, is best for the purpose. We must then draw them through small holes, to give them uniformity, and keep them in a receptacle which is filled with sulphur fumes. That is for the purpose of fumigating them. They are then ready for the instrument. I think the different sizes will give you a variety."
The directions were carried out, and during the following week the violin was prepared for its initial test. The Professor was pleased with the knowledge that the instrument was ready. It was plain that he expected important results from that source with John. It is well known that music possesses a wonderful power in the treatment of demented people, and he was very anxious to try it in the case of one who had lost all memory.
On the evening appointed the violin was brought in, and the boys had arranged a program. Harry had a fine baritone voice, while George could take a high note and sustain it as well as most sopranos. When all the preliminaries had been arranged, the instrument was produced, and after a little preliminary tuning, George played "America."
At the first strains of the violin, Angel, who was in the loft, came down. He didn't stop to notice anyone but George. This was something so unheard of that he appeared to be hypnotized, as he shuffled over to George, and looked up at the instrument. He appeared to be entranced, and when the music stopped he laid his hand on George's knee, and looked up appealingly. There was not a single motion in his features which showed appreciation or pleasure or excitement; but aside from that every action of his body indicated exhilaration and undue animation.
The boys had eyes for the animal only; but the Professor watched John to the exclusion of everything else. When the first strains vibrated he glanced around, and saw the musician. From that moment until George dropped the violin his eyes never ceased the stare. As the music continued he appeared to be enraptured, if such a thing could be said of a mute expression.
The Professor drew closer to him, and intently watched his eyes, and before the first verse had ended the situation was so intense that the Professor's hand involuntarily beat time, and it was evident that the tremulous motion, which John now and then exhibited, was the inward struggle for light.
Without turning from John, when the music ceased, he cried out to George, in a suppressed tone: "Keep on; keep on!" This brought the boys to the knowledge of the other drama which was being enacted. "Slower, George, slower," was the request of the Professor; and while "America" requires the jubilant strain of action and liberty, he obeyed the injunction.
"Keep it up; can you play 'Home, Sweet Home'?" George could, and did, and as the familiar strains floated through the air, John moved forward, his head drooped down, both hands grasped the chair and he listened with an intentness that was painful to witness.
When George stopped at the whispered suggestion, John raised his eyes and looked around. The look was a different one than they had ever noticed before. When he glanced at the Professor, Harry said: "Did you notice the difference in his eyes?"
He rubbed his hands over his eyes, and stroked his head, and they thought a glimmer of a smile crossed his features. When they were about to retire that night, the Professor could not help but express his gratification at the results achieved through the aid of the violin.