But, I say, Phil, you ought to have a fiddle."
"I should like to have one. I should make more money."
"How much would one cost?"
"I don't know."
"I'll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after a moment's
thought. "I know a pawnbroker's shop on Chatham Street where
there is a fiddle for sale. I don't think it will cost very
much; not more than five dollars. You must buy it."
"I have not five dollars," said Phil.
"Then I will lend you the money. You shall buy it, and when you
have earned money enough you shall come back to New York some day
and pay me."
"Thank you," said Phil, gratefully. "I will surely pay you."
"Of course you will, Phil," said Paul, confidently. "I can see
by your face that you are honest. I don't believe you would
cheat your friend."
"I would not cheat you, Signor Paul."
"I see, Phil, you are bound to make an Italian of me. You may
just call me Paul, and don't mind about the signor. Now I'll
tell you what I propose. I cannot leave my business for an hour
and a half. You can go where you please, but come back at that
time, and I will take you home to dinner with me. On the way
back I will stop with you at the Chatham Street store and ask the
price of the violin; then, if it doesn't cost too much, I will
buy it.
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