"Say, Bill, don't yer know yer old frien's?"
The audience laughed at this ingenuous inquiry.
Signor Kellar, as he was denominated on the bills, did not smile, but bowed gravely and slipped the violin under his chin.
"They might 'Signor' Hunch Blair all they'd a mind ter, he'd stop the biggest show on earth ter shake han's with Lizzī's brothers," the dwarf muttered.
The liquid notes of "Home, Sweet Home" floated to him as he stood by the exit. The air seemed to rise and fall in long undulations set in motion by the violin. In these waves the brothers bathed their weary souls. The melody caressed them, and, thinking of their own home, they wept silently.
Blind Benner crouched at Bill's feet. A silence almost of pain held the incongruous crowd.
Hunch alone seemed untouched—apparently he was beyond the power of spells. He made no effort to guard Bill from the fascination of the instrument.
"Bill don't need no horn ter let him loose," he growled. "There ain't no devil in that tune. He don't kick his feet ter eny sech. Guess Bill's playin' fer the angels."