The Young Musician | Page 3

with which he spoke. "Rest
now, and to-morrow we can talk again."
Mr. Gray was evidently in need of rest. He closed his eyes and
apparently slept. But he never awoke to consciousness. The
conversation above recorded was the last he was able to hold with his

son. For two days he remained in a kind of stupor, and at the end of that
time he died.
Philip's grief was not violent. He had so long anticipated his father's
death that it gave him only a mild shock.
Friends and neighbors made the necessary arrangements for the funeral,
and the last services were performed. Then, at length, Philip realized
that he had lost his best earthly friend, and that he was henceforth alone
in the world. He did not as yet know that Squire Pope had considerately
provided him with a home in the village poorhouse.

CHAPTER II.
PHILIP AT HOME.

"When the funeral was over, Frank Dunbar, whom Philip regarded as
his most intimate friend, came up to him.
"Philip," he said, "my mother would like to have you spend a few days
with us while you are deciding what to do."
"Thank you, Frank!" answered Philip. "But until the auction I shall
remain at home. I shall soon enough be without a home."
"But it will be very lonely for you," objected Frank.
"No; I shall have my thoughts for company. When I am alone I can
think best of my future plans."
"Won't you come to our house to meals, then?"
"Thank you, Frank! I will do that."
"When is the auction to be?"
"To-day is Monday. It is appointed for Thursday."
"I hope there will be something left for you."
"There will be about enough left to pay my father's small debts and his
funeral expenses. I would not like to have him indebted to others for
those. I don't think there will be anything over."
Frank looked perplexed.
"I am sorry for you, Phil," he said. "I wish we were rich, instead of
having hard work to make both ends meet. You would not lack for
anything then."

"Dear Frank," said Philip earnestly, "I never doubted your true
friendship. But I am not afraid that I shall suffer. I am sure I can earn
my living."
"But why do you shut yourself up alone, Philip?" asked Frank, not
satisfied to leave his friend in what he considered the gloomy solitude
of a house just visited by death.
"I want to look over my father's papers. I may find out something that I
ought to know, and after the auction it will be too late. Father had some
directions to give me, but he did not live long enough to do it. For three
days I have the house to myself. After that I shall perhaps never visit it
again."
"Don't be downhearted, Philip," said Frank, pressing his hand with
boyish sympathy.
"I don't mean to be, Frank. I am naturally cheerful and hopeful. I shall
miss my poor father sadly: but grieving will not bring him back. I must
work for my living, and as I have no money to depend upon, I cannot
afford to lose any time in forming my plans."
"You will come over to our house and take your meals!"
"Yes, Frank."
Frank Dunbar's father was a small farmer, who, as Frank had said,
found it hard work to make both ends meet. Among all the village boys,
he was the one whom Philip liked best, though there were many others
whose fathers were in hotter circumstances. For this, however, Philip
cared little. Rich or poor, Frank suited him, and they had always been
known as chums, to adopt the term used by the boys in the village.
It may be thought that as Philip's circumstances were no better, such an
intimacy was natural enough. But Philip Gray possessed special gifts,
which made his company sought after. He was a fine singer, and played
with considerable skill on the violin--an accomplishment derived from
his father, who had acted as his teacher. Then he was of a cheerful
temperament, and this is a gift which usually renders the possessor
popular, unless marred by positive defects or bad qualities. There were
two or three young snobs in the village who looked down upon Philip
on account of his father's poverty, but most were very glad to associate
with our hero, and have him visit their homes. He was courteous to all,
but made--no secret of his preference for Frank Dunbar.
When Philip parted from Frank, and entered the humble dwelling

which had been his own and his father's home for years, there was a
sense of loneliness and desolation which came over him at first.
His father was the only relative whom he knew,