What a sweet voice he has!
Such a handsome little fellow, too!"
"He has a dirty face, and his clothes are quite ragged."
"But he has beautiful eyes; see how brilliant they are. No
wonder he is dirty and ragged; it isn't his fault, poor boy. I
have no doubt he has a miserable home. I'm going to give him
something."
"Just as you like, Florence; as I am not a romantic young damsel,
I shall not follow your example."'
By this time the song was finished, and Phil, taking off his cap,
went the rounds. None of the contributions were larger than five
cents, until he came to the young lady of whom we have spoken
above. She drew a twenty-five-cent piece from her portemonnaie,
and put it into Phil's hand, with a gracious smile, which pleased
the young fiddler as much as the gift, welcome though that
undoubtedly was.
"Thank you, lady," he said.
"You sing very nicely," she replied.
Phil smiled, and dirty though his face was, the smile lighted it
up with rare beauty.
"Do you often come on these boats?" asked the young lady.
"Sometimes, but they do not always let me play," said Phil.
"I hope I shall hear you again. You have a good voice.
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