So, after a
pretense of putting up the fiddle, the pawnbroker finally said,
"You may have it, but I tell you that I shall lose money."
"All right," said Paul; "hand it over."
"Where is the money?" asked Eliakim, cautiously.
Paul drew from his pocket a two-dollar bill and twenty-five cents
in currency, and received the fiddle. The pawnbroker scrutinized
the money closely, fearing that it might be bad; but finally,
making up his mind on that point, deposited it in his money
drawer.
"Well, Phil, we may as well go," said Paul. "We've got through
our business."
The pawnbroker heard this, and a sudden suspicion entered his
mind that Paul had been too sharp for him.
"I might have got twenty-five cents more," he thought
regretfully; and this thought disturbed the complacency he felt
at first.
"Well, Phil, how do you like it?" asked Paul, as they emerged
into the street.
"Let me try it," said Phil, eagerly.
He struck up a tune, which he played through, his face expressing
the satisfaction he felt.
"Is it as good as your old one?"
"It is much better," said Phil. "I will pay you for it;" and he
drew out the money the sailors had given him in the morning.
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