Philip: The Story of a Boy Violinist

by Virginia C. Young; Mary C. Hungerford

It had been a thoughtful suggestion of the rector’s that Philip should learn to read under his aunt’s guidance until a suitable teacher could be found, and from the time of Aunt Delia’s promise to teach him his health improved with wonderful rapidity, and the perseverance with which he devoted himself to the task of learning to read seemed to do him no harm, although his ambition led him to spend every spare moment over his books. He was so eager to learn that Aunt Delia went on in spite of her previous decision to teach him only to read, and, almost before she realized that she was doing it, found herself instructing her enthusiastic pupil in writing and most of the studies that are given to boys of his age.

He was so charmed with his own progress, and so radiantly happy to be able to read nearly as well as his cousin Lillie the books that she used to read to him, that he half forgot his dread of the impending governess with whom he was threatened.

She came at last, but there was nothing about her to frighten the most timid child that ever lived. She was the daughter of an old friend of the family, who, dying in a state of almost destitution, had left his daughters with no capital but good health and fine education for their future support. The elder of them had written to ask Dr. Norton’s advice about the steps to be taken to secure positions for herself and sister; and he, after consulting with Aunt Delia, at once offered the situation of governess to his nephew to whichever of the young ladies should decide to accept it.

The younger sister it was who came, and so far from wearing the expression of being a terror of evil-doers, her poor, shy, frightened face and timid manner showed so much embarrassment and fear of strangers that Philip felt himself quite brave by comparison, and, instead of shrinking away from her, actually found himself making shy little attempts to make her feel at home.

Her diffidence wore off after a few days, and then Miss Acton, the new governess, won all hearts by her gentle, lovable ways.

Fortunately for Philip, Miss Acton had had a fine musical education, and she took perfect delight in her scholar’s application and talent.

“He is something wonderful,” she said to Mrs. Seldon after her first quarter’s lessons. “I can really teach him nothing except the technicalities of piano-playing. His interpretations of certain passages surprise me, and I believe that he will some day become a truly great musician.”

He made great progress, too, with his lessons, spurred on by his desire to be able to read well before the return of his young cousins. When the sunshine out-of-doors was particularly inviting, and when Dash was showing his sympathy with his young master’s impatience by scratching and whining at the door, Miss Acton had only to say, “I wonder if Marion will think you have improved in your reading, Philip,” to make him go at his task again with redoubled energy.

Dash did not approve of Philip’s studious habits. Miss Acton had tried excluding him from the school-room altogether, but he was so unhappy and would whine so piteously outside the door that she was obliged to allow him to return on a promise of good behavior. Philip, too, had impressed upon him the necessity of preserving order in the school-room, and he soon came to understand that when a person held a book he did not wish to be disturbed. One morning Miss Acton was slightly indisposed, and as there were to be no lessons that day Philip wandered into the garden after breakfast, instead of going as usual directly to the school-room. Dash of course followed closely at his heels, but he seemed to think that something was wrong, and several times he would walk slowly toward the house, looking back as much as to say, “Why don’t you follow me? It’s school-time, you know, Philip.” But Philip paid no attention, and at last Dash trotted into the house and up the stairs in a business-like manner. Philip had just time to notice his absence, and wonder at it, when he returned, carrying something in his mouth which he brought and laid at Philip’s feet, barking joyously as though pleased at his own cleverness. Philip stooped to pick up the object which had been dropped, and discovered that it was his copy-book, which Dash had fetched from his desk in the school-room.

Miss Acton was much amused when she learned of the occurrence, and declared that hereafter Dash should be encouraged to remain during the lessons. “I am sure,” she said, “that if he could only hold a pen he would be able to write as well as Philip; and at any rate such a dog is a valuable mentor for my pupil.”