"I've a fiddle at home that I play sometimes.

Do you mind if I--tune her up ?" A flicker of something that was very near to humor flashed from his father's eyes.
"Oh, no.

We are used to that--now." And again John Holly remembered his youth.
"Jove! but he's got the dandy instrument here," cried the player, dropping his bow after the first half-dozen superbly vibrant tones, and carrying the violin to the window.

A moment later he gave an amazed ejaculation and turned on his father a dumfounded face.
"Great Scott, father! Where did that boy get this instrument?
I KNOW something of violins, if I can't play them much; and this--! Where DID he get it ?" "Of his father, I suppose.

He had it when he came here, anyway." "'Had it when he came'! But, father, you said he was a tramp, and--oh, come, tell me, what is the secret behind this?
Here I come home and find calmly reposing on my father's sitting-room table a violin that's priceless, for all I know.