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The Young Musician ; Or, Fighting His Way eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 150 pages of information about The Young Musician ; Or, Fighting His Way.

“It seems to me the best way would be to stay at home,” said Philip, smiling.

“If I stayed at home I’d have to go to school and study.  I don’t care much about studying.”

“I like it,” said Philip.  “So Tom left you, did he?”

“Yes; but I wasn’t going to give up so easy.  He took half the money that was left, though I thought he ought to have given it to me, as I needed it more.  I wasn’t going home just as I’d started.”

“Then you’ve spent all your money now?”

“Yes,” answered Henry gloomily.  “Have you got much money?” he asked, after a pause.

“Yes, I have about a hundred dollars-say, ninety-five.”

“You don’t mean it!” ejaculated Henry, hie eyes sparkling.

“Yes, I do.”

“How did you get it?”

“I earned most of it by playing on the violin.”

“I say,” exclaimed Henry, in excitement, “suppose you and me go into partnership together, and go out West—­”

“To kill Indians?” asked Philip, smiling.

“Yes!  With all that money we’ll get along.  Besides, if we get short, you can earn some more.”

“But what advantage am I to get out of it?  I am to furnish all the capital and pay all expenses, as far as I can understand.  Generally, both partners put in something.”

“I put in my revolver,” said Henry.

“One revolver won’t do for us both.”

“Oh, well, you can buy one.  Come, what do you say?” asked Henry eagerly.

“Let me ask you a few questions first.  Where does your father live?”

“In New York.”

“What is his business?”

“He is a broker in Wall Street.”

“I suppose he is rich?”

“Oh, he’s got plenty of money, I expect!  We live in a nice house on Madison Avenue.  That’s one of the best streets, I suppose you know!”

“I never was in New York.  Is your mother living?”

“No,” answered Henry.  “She died three years ago.”

If his mother had been living, probably the boy would never have made such an escapade, but his father, being engrossed by business cares, was able to give very little attention to his son, and this accounts in part for the folly of which he had been guilty.

“Have you got any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“I have one sister, about three years younger than I. Her name is Jennie.”

“I wish I were as well off as you,” said Philip.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean I wish I had a father and sister.”

“Haven’t you?”

“My father is dead,” said Philip gravely, “and I never had a sister.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know as I’m so lucky,” said Henry.  “Sisters are a bother.  They want you to go round with them, and the old man is always finding fault.”

Philip’s relations with his father had always been so affectionate that he could not understand how Henry could talk in such a way of his.

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