Life at the Holly farmhouse was not what it had been.The coming of David had introduced new elements that promised complications.
Not because he was another mouth to feed--Simeon Holly was not worrying about that part any longer.Crops showed good promise,and all ready in the bank even now was the necessary money to cover the dreaded note,due the last of August.The complicating elements in regard to David were of quite another nature.
To Simeon Holly the boy was a riddle to be sternly solved.To Ellen Holly he was an everpresent reminder of the little boy of long ago,and as such was to be loved and trained into a semblance of what that boy might have become.To Perry Larson,David was the "derndest checkerboard of sense an'nonsense goin'"--a game over which to chuckle.
At the Holly farmhouse they could not understand a boy who would leave a supper for a sunset,or who preferred a book to a toy pistol--as Perry Larson found out was the case on the Fourth of July;who picked flowers,like a girl,for the table,yet who unhesitatingly struck the first blow in a fight with six antagonists:who would not go fishing because the fishes would not like it,nor hunting for any sort of wild thing that had life;who hung entranced for an hour over the "millions of lovely striped bugs"in a field of early potatoes,and who promptly and stubbornly refused to sprinkle those same "lovely bugs"with Paris green when discovered at his worship.All this was most perplexing,to say the least.
Yet David worked,and worked well,and in most cases he obeyed orders willingly.He learned much,too,that was interesting and profitable;nor was he the only one that made strange discoveries during those July days.The Hollys themselves learned much.They learned that the rose of sunset and the gold of sunrise were worth looking at;and that the massing of the thunderheads in the west meant more than just a shower.They learned,too,that the green of the hilltop and of the far-reaching meadow was more than grass,and that the purple haze along the horizon was more than the mountains that lay between them and the next State.They were beginning to see the world with David's eyes.
There were,too,the long twilights and evenings when David,on the wings of his violin,would speed away to his mountain home,leaving behind him a man and a woman who seemed to themselves to be listening to the voice of a curly-headed,rosy-cheeked lad who once played at their knees and nestled in their arms when the day was done.And here,too,the Hollys were learning;though the thing thus learned was hidden deep in their hearts.
It was not long after David's first visit that the boy went again to "The House that Jack Built,"as the Gurnseys called their tiny home.(Though in reality it had been Jack's father who had built the house.Jack and Jill,however,did not always deal with realities.)It was not a pleasant afternoon.There was a light mist in the air,and David was without his violin.
"I came to--to inquire for the cat--Juliette,"he began,a little bashfully."I thought I'd rather do that than read to-day,"he explained to Jill in the doorway.
"Good!I'm so glad!I hoped you'd come,"the little girl welcomed him."Come in and--and see Juliette,"she added hastily,remembering at the last moment that her brother had not looked with entire favor on her avowed admiration for this strange little boy.
Juliette,roused from her nap,was at first inclined to resent her visitor's presence.In five minutes,however,she was purring in his lap.
The conquest of the kitten once accomplished,David looked about him a little restlessly.He began to wonder why he had come.He wished he had gone to see Joe Glaspell instead.He wished that Jill would not sit and stare at him like that.He wished that she would say something--anything.But Jill,apparently struck dumb with embarrassment,was nervously twisting the corner of her apron into a little knot.David tried to recollect what he had talked about a few days before,and he wondered why he had so enjoyed himself then.He wished that something would happen--anything!--and then from an inner room came the sound of a violin.
David raised his head.
"It's Jack,"stammered the little girl--who also had been wishing something would happen."He plays,same as you do,on the violin.""Does he?"beamed David."But--"He paused,listening,a quick frown on his face.
Over and over the violin was playing a single phrase--and the variations in the phrase showed the indecision of the fingers and of the mind that controlled them.Again and again with irritating sameness,yet with a still more irritating difference,came the succession of notes.And then David sprang to his feet,placing Juliette somewhat unceremoniously on the floor,much to that petted young autocrat's disgust.
"Here,where is he?Let me show him,"cried the boy,and at the note of command in his voice,Jill involuntarily rose and opened the door to Jack's den.
"Oh,please,Mr.Jack,"burst out David,hurrying into the room.
"Don't you see?You don't go at that thing right.If you'll just let me show you a minute,we'll have it fixed in no time!"The man with the violin stared,and lowered his bow.A slow red came to his face.The phrase was peculiarly a difficult one,and beyond him,as he knew;but that did not make the present intrusion into his privacy any the more welcome.
"Oh,will we,indeed!"he retorted,a little sharply."Don't trouble yourself,I beg of you,boy.""But it isn't a mite of trouble,truly,"urged David,with an ardor that ignored the sarcasm in the other's words."I WANT to do it."Despite his annoyance,the man gave a short laugh.
"Well,David,I believe you.And I'll warrant you'd tackle this Brahms concerto as nonchalantly as you did those six hoodlums with the cat the other day--and expect to win out,too!""But,truly,this is easy,when you know how,"laughed the boy.
"See!"
