"Where have
you kept yourself? I have not seen you for a long time."
"I have been fiddling," said Phil.
"But I don't see your violin now. What has become of it?"
"It is broken--destroyed," said Phil.
"How did that happen?"
Phil described the manner in which his violin had been stolen.
"Do you know who stole it?"
"It was that boy who tried to take it once in the Park."
"When I stopped him?"
"Yes."
"I know him. It is Tim Rafferty. He is a mean boy; I will pay
him up for it."
"I do not care for it now," said Phil.
"But what will your padrone say when you come home without it?"
"He would beat me, but I will not go home."
"What will you do?"
"I will run away."
"Good for you, Phil! I like your spunk," said Paul, heartily.
"I wouldn't go back to the old villain if I were you. Where are
you going?"
"Away from New York. If I stay here the padrone would catch me."
"How much did you earn with your fiddle when you had it?"
"Two dollars, if it was a good day."
"That is excellent. I'll tell you what, Phil, if you could stay
in the city, I would invite you to come and live with us. You
could pay your share of the expense, say three or four dollars a
week, and keep the rest of your money to buy clothes, and to
save.
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