"In there by the window.It's Joe.He's my brother."The little girl,in spite of her evident satisfaction at the accomplishment of her purpose,yet kept quite aloof from the boy.Nor did the fact that he refused the money appear to bring her anything but uneasy surprise.
In the window David saw a boy apparently about his own age,a boy with sandy hair,pale cheeks,and wide-open,curiously intent blue eyes.
"Is he coming?Did you get him?Will he play?"called the boy at the window eagerly.
"Yes,I'm right here.I'm the one.Can't you see the violin?
Shall I play here or come in?"answered David,not one whit less eagerly.
The small girl opened her lips as if to explain something;but the boy in the window did not wait.
"Oh,come in.WILL you come in?"he cried unbelievingly."And will you just let me touch it--the fiddle?Come!You WILL come?
See,there isn't anybody home,only just Betty and me.""Of course I will!"David fairly stumbled up the broken steps in his impatience to reach the wide-open door."Did you like it--what I played?And did you know what I was playing?Did you understand?Could you see the cloud-boats up in the sky,and my Silver Lake down in the valley?And could you hear the birds,and the winds in the trees,and the little brooks?Could you?Oh,did you understand?I've so wanted to find some one that could!But Iwouldn't think that YOU--HERE--"With a gesture,and an expression on his face that were unmistakable,David came to a helpless pause.
"There,Joe,what'd I tell you,"cried the little girl,in a husky whisper,darting to her brother's side."Oh,why did you make me get him here?Everybody says he's crazy as a loon,and--"But the boy reached out a quickly silencing hand.His face was curiously alight,as if from an inward glow.His eyes,still widely intent,were staring straight ahead.
"Stop,Betty,wait,"he hushed her."Maybe--I think I DOunderstand.Boy,you mean--INSIDE of you,you see those things,and then you try to make your fiddle tell what you are seeing.Is that it?""Yes,yes,"cried David."Oh,you DO understand.And I never thought you could.I never thought that anybody could that did n't have anything to look at but him--but these things.""'Anything but these to look at'!"echoed the boy,with a sudden anguish in his voice."Anything but these!I guess if I could see ANYTHING,I wouldn't mind WHAT I see!An'you wouldn't,neither,if you was--blind,like me.""Blind!"David fell back.Face and voice were full of horror.
"You mean you can't see--anything,with your eyes?""Nothin'."
"Oh!I never saw any one blind before.There was one in a book--but father took it away.Since then,in books down here,I've found others--but--""Yes,yes.Well,never mind that,"cut in the blind boy,growing restive under the pity in the other's voice."Play.Won't you?""But how are you EVER going to know what a beautiful world it is?"shuddered David."How can you know?And how can you ever play in tune?You're one of the instruments.Father said everybody was.And he said everybody was playing SOMETHING all the time;and if you didn't play in tune--""Joe,Joe,please,"begged the little girl "Won't you let him go?I'm afraid.I told you--"
"Shucks,Betty!He won't hurt ye,"laughed Joe,a little irritably.Then to David he turned again with some sharpness.
"Play,won't ye?You SAID you'd play!"
"Yes,oh,yes,I'll play,"faltered David,bringing his violin hastily to position,and testing the strings with fingers that shook a little.
"There!"breathed Joe,settling back in his chair with a contented sigh."Now,play it again--what you did before."But David did not play what he did before--at first.There were no airy cloud-boats,no far-reaching sky,no birds,or murmuring forest brooks in his music this time.There were only the poverty-stricken room,the dirty street,the boy alone at the window,with his sightless eyes--the boy who never,never would know what a beautiful world he lived in.
Then suddenly to David came a new thought.This boy,Joe,had said before that he understood.He had seemed to know that he was being told of the sunny skies and the forest winds,the singing birds and the babbling brooks.Perhaps again now he would understand.
What if,for those sightless eyes,one could create a world?
Possibly never before had David played as he played then.It was as if upon those four quivering strings,he was laying the purple and gold of a thousand sunsets,the rose and amber of a thousand sunrises,the green of a boundless earth,the blue of a sky that reached to heaven itself--to make Joe understand.
"Gee!"breathed Joe,when the music came to an end with a crashing chord."Say,wa'n't that just great?Won't you let me,please,just touch that fiddle?"And David,looking into the blind boy's exalted face,knew that Joe had indeed--understood.
